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OF 



SAMWELL WILKINS. 



A COLLECTION OF 
OKIGINAL POEMS, OPINIONS AND PAKODIES 



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PRICE ONE DOLLAR 



PUBLISHED BY THE . A. "U" T H O E- , 



December, issii. 



KALAMAZOO : 

KALAMAZOO PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

PRINTERS AND BINDERS. 



SJpWiSJS?^ f 




MANY PEOPLE 



Willi WII.I, 



BORROW MY BOOK INSTEAD OF BEYIXG IT, 



©HIS yOLiUME 



LOYINGEY DEDICATED. 



PREFACE. 



By way of preface the author merely wishes to offer an 
humble apology for publishing a hook of poems. He really 
doesn't mean any harm, and is in hopes that he may be 
permitted to continue his residence in the community 
withoul sustaining any serious bodily injury. 



3/teditatioas of Barnwell iAiilkias. 



PROVE IT. 

Ts there ought you would attain? 

Prove it. 
Anything you'd like to gain ? 

Prove it. 
Any fight you once begin 
Never swerve, through thick or thin. 
If it's worth your while to win. 

Prove it. 

If you claim to be a saint, 

Prove it. 
May-be some will think you ain't, 

Prove it. 
If you do, not as you would, 
But forever as you should — 
If you're so extremely good. 

Prove it. 

Have you any aim in life ? 

Prove it. 
Is the victory worth the strife? 

Prove it. 
Don't depend on rank or birth, 
Eest your claims on solid worth. 
If you're any good on earth, 

Prove it. 



^^Ly £~<?Ci£& J&o-f^ds 



ONIONS. . 

There is no perfume that I love so well 

As onions, fragrant onions. 
Creation's most odoriferous smell 

Is onions, fragrant onions. 
Nature is beautiful, calm, and bright, 
From fruitful valley to lofty height. 
She would show good sense it' she'd only blight 

These onions, fragrant onions. 

Sometimes when walking the street, yon say. 

•■ Onions, fragrant onions ! 
" Somebody's cooking for dinner to-day 

•• ( >nions. fragrant onions.'' 
No flower's pure essence as sweet as they. 
No fifty-cent odor could longer stay. 
Voii can smell 'em a couple of blocks away. 
( Miions. fragrant onions. 

1 wonder how Providence came to invent 

Onions, fragranl onions. 
On what dire mission hath nature sent 

Onions, fragrant onions? 
It seems too had that an earth so fail- 
Should nourish and foster with so much care 
A plant with a smell that will raise your hair- 

Onions. fragrant onions.' 



TOBACCO. 



What power can sanction or can Mess 

That dirty, filthy eussedness? 

What demon, for a fiendish joke. 

First tauffhl mankind to chew and smoke? 



\^(^m^t£\ /VtiJ&u^^ 



STOEY OF GOOD LITTLE VINCENT. 

Young Vincent was a noble boy, 
His father's pride, his mother's joy. 
All free from arts and false pretense, 
A type of guileless innocence. 
Surely no healthy boy could be 
More noble, pure and true than he — 

So thought his proud paternal. 
Now Vincent was a quiet child, 
His ways were gentle, manners mild. 
Ye( sometimes, tired of quiet joys. 
ire went to play with other hoys. 
And once or twice this youth sedate 
Returned to slumber rather late 

And grieved his kind paternal. 
The kind paternal loved his son. 
But when by duty called upon 
lie emphasized his just commands 
By literal laying on of hands. 
So now about the second time 
That Vincent failed to toe the line 
The kind paternal said to him. 
'•My son. I want you to be in 
" By eight o'clock, for otherwise 
"I must my little son chastise: 
•• And such a task, you surely know. 
" Would hurt your loving papa so." 

Thus spake the grieved paternal. 
And noble Vincent said he would. 
For well he knew he never could 
Endure to see his papa dear 
So sadly, deeply grieved. — and here 
With spotless handkerchief he dries 
A teardrop from his little eyes. 

[He loved his kind paternal.] 
Then all went well a week or so. 
Till one ill-fated ni<>-ht, when lo! 



He played a little bit too late, 

And first he knew 'twas half past eight. 

lie hesitated home to go, 

He knew 'twould grieve his papa so, 

Then took a friend to stay all night — 

Thought that would help him out all right. 

The kind paternal, Vincent learned, 

From down town had not yet returned. 

So, being tired, he quickly led 

His friend upstairs, and went to bed. 

The company was soon asleep, 

But Vincent didn't slumber deep ; — 

He thought of his paternal. 
The kind paternal soon returned. 
And asked about his son, and learned 
That he had trespassed as before — 
Learned merely this and nothing more. 
lie said, " I'm very grieved to hear 
•• Of this, for very much I fear 
• ; That, as a parent good and wise, 
•■I must my little son chastise; 
••And I will make the lesson strong, 
"So he'll remember deep and long;" — 

Thus quoth the grieved paternal. 
The company was sound asleep ; 
But Vincent didn't slumber deep. 
He dozed and listened, tossed and dreamed. 
And as he slept he ever seemed 
To see his father's troubled look. 
Then suddenly, all sleep forsook 
His eyelids, for while tossing there. 
He heard a footstep on the stair. 
Now Vincent couldn't bear to see 
His fond paternal's misery ; 
So when he heard that heavy tread 
He quickly bounded out of bed 
And looked for some secluded spot, 
And mourned because he found it not. 



\$cH*?j<L4 / -eAA /yii^Ci^ua^ 



He felt around and bumped his head — 
Then scrambled underneath the bed. 

[He felt for his paternal.] 
The company, unconscious there, 
Heard not the footstep on the stair. 
But slumbered sweetly, snug and warm. 
And never even dreamed of harm. 
And while young Vincent rolled and tossed, 
No shade his peaceful eyelids crossed. 
He dreamed of fields and shady nooks, 
And birds, and flowers, and babbling brooks, 
And several other tilings that seem 
Appropriate subjects for a dream. 

[He grieved for no paternal.] 
Then very soon the guest awoke. 
His peaceful dream was past. 
He woke to find his host had fled, — 
A tall, dark form stood by the bed. 
He woke to mutter, gape and start, 
Then burn, and scream, and shriek and smart! 
Ho! martyrs of ye olden time. 
Whose deeds are sung in classic rhyme. 
Behold this guiltless boy's sad plight. 
And weep with pity at the sight. 

SONG OF THE COMPANY. 

Parent unreasonable, 

Deaf to my cries. 
"Vincent most treasonable 

Now I despise. 
Fashioned so slenderly. 

Weak and alone — 
Take me up tenderly, 

( !arry me home. 

Backward, fly backward, 
O Time, in your flight : 



12 



^4--^Ci^-^r^^dy *$ 



Make me a babe again, 

Just for to-night. 
Rock me to sleep, mother, 

.lust as of yore, 
I am so weak, mother, 

Sad. and so sore. 

Then hurry faster, 

O Time, in your flight, 
Make me a bigger boy, 

So I can fight. 
He was too innocent. — 

Never you fret, — 
I'll put a head on him 

First chance I g*et. 

S<>\<; OF COOT) LITTLE VINCENT. 

I am half asleep and dreaming 
Of the fairy shores of light, 

All oppression absent seeming. 
I can stay out half the night. 

But with vigilance eternal 

1 await the step paternal 
On the stair. 

I am playing, playing, playing, 
On those fairy shores of light, 

Through the fragrant clover straying, 
Always out with hall and kite. 

But I leave those joys supernal 

When I hear the step paternal 
( )n the stair. 

T am crawling, gently crawling 
Underneath my little bed. 

On the dusty carpet sprawling. 
Gathering cobwebs with my head. 

For I think of warmth external, 

When I hear my grieved paternal 
On the stair. 



vSW^^ WdAt*^ 1:1 



I am quiet, very quiet, 

And my heart is full of love. 
As I listen to the riot 

On the downy couch above. 
I've a sinking void internal 
When T hear that step paternal 
On the stair. 



TWO DIFFERENT CASES. 

Home they brought him, slain with spears. 

They brought him heme at even-tall. 
All alone she sits and hears 
Echoes in his empty hall. 

Sounding on the morrow. 
The sun peeped in from open held. 
The boy began to leap and prance, 
Rode upon his father's lance 
Beat upon his father's shield — 

• Oh. hush, my joy, my sorrow.'' 

— .1. Tennyt 



Home they brought him on a dray. 

They brought him home at even-tide. 
They said he'd fainted dead away. 

His loving helpmate knew they lied — 
•'I'll lix him, gents, I thank you." 
The son peeped in and saw his pa. 

Unconscious there with features swelled. 
His symyathies in tears up-welled — 
He taints a good deal, don't he. ma?" 
" Oh, hush, or 1 will spank you." 

• — S. Wilkins. 



14 w^^^J^>fej^>7-tn^ 



MOONLIGHT'S CHARM. 

Boys, 
Were you ever more embarrassed, 

Did you ever feel so small — 
Ever feel so awful sorry 

That you started out at all — 
Were you ever more disgusted 

Thau when, in moonlight's charm, 
You were walking with a lady, 

And she wouldn't take your arm? 

We were going to a social, 

Or to something ol the kind — 

The particular occasion 

Has just now escaped my mind — 

And the lady seemed to view me 
With a sort of mild alarm 

When I said, " Miss Tozerboodle, 

" May I offer you my arm ? " 

" Oh, no ! " gasped the gentle maiden, 

That was every word she said. 
Then with iioth hands in her pockets, 

She went scudding on ahead. 
Silently I followed after, 

In the moonlight's silvery charm, 
With both ray hands in my pockets, 

For she wouldn't take my arm. 

As we marched in dumb procession, 

Through the shadows dark and drear. 
She, where' ere the path was darkest 

Looked to see if I was near. 
So at last our journey ended. 

And I'd like to bet a farm 
That she couldn't give a reason 

Why she wouldn't take my arm. 



ySc^t^c^-cM. )yii^un^>. 15 



Well, we passed a pleasant evening, 

Then I had to see her home. 
And to add to that great pleasure, 

We were by no means alone. 
And the rest were laughing at us. 

Though I know they meant no harm. 
And the girls looked back and giggled 

As they took their escorts' arm. 

Oh! that moonlight eve enchanting, 

When I followed on behind! 
Oh! that entertaining maiden. 

With the strong, well-balanced mind! 
Boys, if you would e'er be happy. 

Flee with undisguised alarm — 
Shun the fairest of Earth's daughters. 

It she will not take your arm. 

1 was never more embarrassed, 

And I never felt so small — 
Never felt so awful sorry 

That I started out at all, 
Never was I more disgusted 

Than when, in moonlight's charm, 
I was walking with a lady. 

And she wouldn't take my arm. 



NOT LIVING. 

Where's the girl you dream of? 

Where's her simple grace ? 
Where s her loving nature? 

Where's her charming face'.-' 
Where's her form so perfect ? 

Where's her silken hair? 
Where's her gentle kindness? 

Echo answers. •• Where?" 



^-^vO &<?Cca2z j£c£ron~4s 



MAUD MULLER. 

Millee Maudee Muller, 
Bigee warmee day, 

Walkee inee meadow, 
Muehee lakee hay. 

Maudee wellee lazee, 
Leanee onee lake. 

< razee towardee eitee, 
Heartee muehee ache 1 . 

Feelee wellee madee, 
Face no lookee sweet. 

(Jot no kidee bootee, 
Stubble hurtee feet. 

She no likee workee, 
She no likee hay; 

She no singee songee, 
Allee longee day. 

.1 udgee wellee thirstee, 
M uchee wan tee dlink, 

Lookee plettee girlee, 
Allee samee wink. 

Plettee girlee smilee, — 
Teethee wellee white. 

Judgee longee gazee, — 
Ileadee feelee light. 

She no likee workee, — 
Likee cuttee dash. 

Judgee wellee soffee, — 
.Muehee gottee cash. 

Plettee girlee hlushee. — 
Singee sweetee soul;'. 

Longee lashee droopee, — 
Judgee allee gone. 



\^c^7^tA"cUL yyjifoi 



Si^t-s^ 



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Judgee oldee manee, 

Headee wellee white. 
Judgee liftee pursee, 

Feelee wellee light. 

Judgee lookee hackee, 
( 'list too muchee wink. 

Wifee gone to partee, 
Judgee muchee think. 

Allee sadee wordee, 
Bookee allee pen, 

Allee wellee sadee. 
Whatee mightee been, 

Allee samee worsee, 
< rirlee lakee hay. 

Richee mariee lidee. 
Better keep away. 



THE GOLDEN RULE. 

A happy young couple were talking low. 

And nobody heard what they said ; 
And the lady's sister, with stately step. 

Was walking along ahead. 

And 1 watched as the little procession moved by, 
And she walked with a lofty grace. 

And anon she drew a pensive sigh, 
With a martyrs look on her face. 

I afterward asked her what made her walk 

So solemnly on ahead ; 
Why didn't she join the other two. 

And hear what the fellow said? 

That girl Looked up with a queerish glance, 

All self-possessed and cool, 
And faintly smiled as she merely said, 
" I go hy the Golden Rule." 



18 



^yyV c^Cl^ta \^Zcn^ds / 



MUSIC. 

That music is food to the spirit 

Is most undeniably true. 
But I frequently think when 1 hear it 

That it's often had medicine too. 
How sweet is a well-rendered ballad 

That is eloquent, simple and clear! 
But when they strike opera music, 

That's what I don't like to hear. 

How frequently some giddy actress. 

Who really thinks she can sing, 
"Will get out in front of the curtain 

And tears from the audience wring. 
Sometimes she will strike a new ballad, 

That's decidedly funny and queer, 
But the most of them date hack to ISToah, 

And that kind I don't like to hear. 

Some remarkably fine prima-donnas, 

Who have thoroughly mastered their art, 
Will occasionally render some stanzas 

In a way to touch anyone's heart. 
Sometimes they will wake in their hearers 

A chord of true sympathy dear, 
But they generally howl bloody murder. 

And that's what I don't like to hear. 



BAD. 

O beautiful oval, thou born of a hen! 

How I will praise thee, and welcome thee, when 
Cooked to a nicety, luscious and brown: — 

How I will smile as I gobble thee down. 

But what greets my nose as I open thy shell? 

what is that odor; — that unchristian smell? 
Another ambition is laid in the dust. 

Another hope blasted, another plan crush'd. 



^(x^iw-tVL Jo'tlfou^-^ i^ 



A REPORTER'S DREAM. 

I was only a local reporter; 

And if I remember it right, 
'Twas exceedingly late in the evening 

On a beautiful Saturday night ; 
And my first weekly labor was ended, 

And my first weakly salary drawn, 
And my time lay at no one's disposal 

Till the following Monday morn. 

And I sat by my wide-open window. 

In the light of the moon's silver beam, 
And I sat, and pondered, and nodded. 
And I had a most wonderful dream. 
And a fairy appeared and he whispered: 
" If thou Avilt come quickly with me, 
■•I will show thee the handsomest picture 
■• It was ever thy fortune to see. 

" It is not of a holy Madonna, 

" With her eyes sadly gazing on high ; 
" It is not of a violent martyr, 

" Who considers it lovely to die : 
"It is not of a dancing-room beauty, 

•• With her arms and her shoulders bare ; 
•■' It is not a remarkable actress. 

"With the diamond's gleam in her hair 

■■ It is not any beautiful palace, 

•• With its mouldering battlements old : 
••it is not of a fairy-like maiden, 

" With her glistening tresses of gold ; — 
• It is none of these forms of beauty. 

" But if thou wilt come with me, 
" I will show thee the handsomest picture 

"It was ever thy fortune to see." 



I arose and silently followed, 

"While the fairy led the way, 
And although it was late in the evening, 

It appeared hut the dawning of da}". 
And Ave followed a beautiful footpath, 

Keeping silence for some little while, 
And Ave came to some rugged stump fencing. 

And a regular old-fashioned stile. 

And the fairy then eoA r ered me over 
With a sort of invisible cloud 

Of the kind that the Pious .Eneas 
Used to have lor his Trojan crowd. 

And the fairy's best reason for putting- 
Such a fly-screen on me seemed to be, 

So that I might observe all before me, 
But that nobody else could see me. 

And after repeating some pass-words, 

And keeping me there for awhile, 
He beckoned to me AA T ith his finger, 

And J followed him over the stile. 
And there, on a shingle, he showed me. 

Arranged in a nice little i'oav, 
In nickels, and dimes and quarters, 

A couple of dollars or so ; 

And, tapping his hand on the shingle. 
He gently inquired of me, 
" Noav, is not that a rich-looking picture 
" As ever you happened f^o-see ? " 
Well, although all my sympathies fastened 

To the newspapers' glorious cause, 
Still, being an honest reporter, 

I Avas forced to admit that it was. 

But just as I felt sort of pleasant. 

An awful reflection it came, 
With the force of a certain conviction. 

Across my excited brain. 



*S**nt*<jtl h'dA^ 21 



And a hot flood of indignation 

Overspread all my feverish brow. 
I was terribly harassed in spirit, 

And I'm mad when I think of it now, 
For, having then still around me 

The invisible cloud, you see, 
Although I could see all the shekels, 

Those shekels they couldn't see me. 



I awoke, and long did I ponder — 

Why isn't that just the way 
With the beauty, the wealth and the grandeur, 

We are looking at every day? 
Thej 7 are glistening all around us, 

' In a brilliant and dazzling crowd, 
And the reason we cannot attain them 

Is because of the mystical cloud 
That the fair} 7 keeps throwing around us. 

He is always tormenting us thus, 
So that w r e can see all of the good things. 

But the good things cannot see us. 



WHEN PATIENCE FAILS. 

It seems to me that if I'd done 

What to my lot befell — 
That if I'd labored patiently, 

And honestly, and well : 
It seems to me that if I'd borne 

As much as I could bear, — 
Had done my very level best 

And ne'er got anywhere, — 
I'd never plod, with patient step, 

Till I was old and gray; 
I think I'd gently pull up stakes 

And start some other way. 



THE UNCLASSICAL COW. 

Mr. Cornelius Truclent 
Was a high-standing classical student. 
lie was dignified, proper, and prudent, 
But he never had milked a cow. 

One day on a rural excursion, 

He mentioned, by way of diversion, 

His palate would have no aversion 

To a drink of warm milk from that cow. 

The boys, with dire mischief infested, 
The company's progress arrested. 
Sarcastically then they suggested 
That Trudent should milk the cow. 

Then Trudent, with great indignation, 
Remarked that a man of his station, 
Who had conquered the lore of a nation, 
Would never be beat by a cow. 

So Mr. Cornelius Trudent, 
The high-standing classical student, 
Who was dignified, proper, and prudent, 
Proceeded to tackle the cow. 

But the milk, by some evil inspired, 
Didn't flow as he might have desired, 
And wrathfully then he inquired, 
''What ails this infamous cow?'' 

Her tail o'er his glasses she flirted. 
The milk most irregular spurted, 
Then way up his coat-sleeve it squirted — 
That's just the way with a cow. 

Now, all ye great men of this nation, 
Who are proud of your high situation, 
Never think, on account of your station 
That you ever can handle a cow. 



£o>*nt* dlWdAw*^ 23 



HALF-WAY. 

The gentle breezes of summer-time 

Blew balmy, fresh, and cool. 
With the beaming, gentle, silvery moon 

'Bout halfway to its full. 

She sat on her horse in the evening's calm. 

The steed was glossy black. 
Her curling tresses hung loose and free, 

'Bout half-way down her back. 

The horse's mane was moved by the breeze, 

And waved so light and free. 
A squirrel chippered and sassed and chirped 

'Bout halt-way up a tree. 

A youth approached and touched his hat. 

But not a word he said. 
He struck at a skeeter and drove Ins nose 

'Bout half-way through his head. 

The maiden toyed with her riding-whip, 

She hummed a fairy note. 
With a little chunk of rubber gum 

Bout half-way down her throat. 



Just what this jingle is about 
I guess nobody knows, 

But anyway Til saw it off 
'Bout half-way to its close. 



24 ^svLs &<7Cl£& j£co-i^4S 



THE CATS. 



See the little nursing eats — 

Wee, small eats. 
With their funny little peepers, that are 

blind as little bats ! 
How they tumble o'er each other 
In their little downy nest. 
With their infant voices feeble. 
Piping up in feline treble, 
As they rouse them from their rest. 
How they cry. cry, cry. 
Till they find their mamma nigh, 
Winking with their little peepers, that 

are blind as little bats. 
Oh, those funny, wee, small, squinting. 

tumbling, little nursing eats. 
Those exceedingly peculiar little cats ! 

See the playful, half grown cats — 

Lively cats! 
How the}' cuff a plaything with their 

cunning, artful pats ! 
How they run, and play, and tumble, 
With a block, or spool, or kill! 
You would think from all the riot 
That they never could be quiet, 
Or could ever rest at all. 
But you peep, peep, peep, 
When they're lying fast asleep. 
In a little furry bundle on the 

parlor's velvet mats. 
Oh, those lively, playful, romping, 

artful, cunning, halt-grown cats ! 
Those remarkably amusing little cats! 



^c^m^-M tydjzu*^ 25 



Hear the courting of the eats — 

Romantic cats ! 
Filling all the evening with their 

mournful lovers spats! 
How they wrangle, plead, and argue 
In the stilly air of night ! 
On the woodshed promenading. 
While the golden stars are fading 
In the morning's dawning light. 
As they woo, woo. woo. 
They are always fighting, too. 
They salute the dawning morning with 

their mournful lovers' spats. 
Oh, those courting, loving, wrangling. 

pleading, promenading eats! 
Those sparking, moonlight-eve, romantic cats 

See the prim, maternal cats — 

Proper cats. 
Members of the household and the 

death of mice and rats. 
How they sit and lick their whiskers, 
When with dinner they are through ! 
How they superintend their kittens, 
Like the three that lost their mittens, 
And they discipline them, too. 
And the}* purr, purr, purr, 
As they smooth their glossy fur. 
And they never go out providing "and get 

into midnight spats. 
They are members of the household, and 

are proper, high toned cats, — 
Are these prim and dignified maternal cats. 

Hear the pugilistic cats — 

Thomas cats. 
How they breathe defiance fn their 

<>'rim, nocturnal chats! 



26 



w^^- £<?Ci?E&. J&JD-1^&, 



Oh, what dreadful threats they utter! 
How they spit, and claw, and scratch! 
How they rave, and growl, and splutter, 
Then with wierd and doleful mutter 
Their exhausted breath they catch ! 
Then they yeowl, yeowl, yeowl, 
Oh, that awful, mournful howl 
That goes shrieking through the midnight 

from the grim nocturnal chats 
Of those yeowling, growling, shrieking, 

howling cats ! 
Those ever-pugilistic Tommy-cats ! 

See the calm, expired cats — 

Quiet cats. 
Resting, calm and peaceful, from their 

many feline spats ! 
They are lying 'neath the daisies, 
In the garden where they fell 
When the shot-gun sang their praises, 
And their back no more it raises 
An intruder to repel. 
Resting deep, deep, deep. 
In their last eternal sleep, 
They're a splendid fertilizer for the 

roses and the grapes. 
We can sleep, sleep, sleep, 
For we know they'll silence keep. 
And we waken not at midnight, long 

to listen to their chats. 
Oh, I love those quiet, resting, sleeping, 

calm, and peaceful cats ! 
Love those solemn, silent, deeply-buried cats ! 




Bequies-cat in pace. 



*$c*w^<A y/d^U^\ 27 



WOMAN'S RIGHTS. 

In the bleak month of March, 
When the water pipes thaw, 
A young lady attempted 
Some cord-wood to saw, 

And her motions were rather surprising. 

I was sawing some wood, 
When she chanced to pass Iry 
And, stopping a moment. 
Thought she'd like to try — 
And didn't want any advising. 

So she took the buck-saw 
In her delicate grasp. 
And proceeded the two 
Farther corners to clasp 

With a tenderness truly pathetic. 

Then she tackled the stick, 
But the saw wouldn't work, 

So she shut both her eyes, 
And she gave it a jerk 

In a way that was real energetic. 

I said that my humble 
Experience had found 
That the saw would work better, 
The other way round : — 

She resented the least interference. 

So exceedingly tight 
Were the sleeves of her gown 
That her arms wouldn't bend, 
So she jumped up and down 

As she labored with grim perseverance. 



28 ^sfis£^tL^j£c£rt^dS 



She finished that stick 
Quick as any one could, 
But I hardly believe 
That sawing cord-wood 

Is a woman's most blest occupation. 

It might do to lecture. 
Or vote (if she could). 
But when she goes farther 
And tries to saw wood, 

She's infringing on predestination. 



MUCHNESS. 



In this great and mighty nation 

I has go1 a situation 

In a high and lofty station. 

See Me! Big Injun!! Whoop!!! 

True, I hasn't got much learnin', 
But for books I isn't j earnin', 
J has got the cash for certain; 
See Me ! Big Injun ! ! Whoop ! ! ! 

Upward still my friends they shove me. 
And the ladies they all love me, 
There is nothing* much above me, 
See Me ! Big Injun ! ! Whoop ! ! ! 

As I flings the dimes and dollars, 
All the crowd behind me follers, 
Then I turns around and hollers, 
See Me! Big Injun!! Whoop!!! 



iSewiV-dl yydjQ*i^ 29 



POLICE! POLICE!! 

There was once a little urchin 
With a face so pale and thin, 

('aught in open misdemeanor, 
And a blue-coat ran him in. 

" Little urchin, you were drinking." 
Said the blue-coat, tall and grim. 

" Drinking! you little rascal ! " 
And the blue-coat ran him in. 

" Please, sir." whined the little urchin, 
" I didn't know it was no sin 
To do what 1 seen p'leecemen doin',' 
But the blue-coat ran him in. 

"Little urchin, you were fighting, 

'• You and dirty little Jim ; 
" Which of you began the rumpus?" 
And the blue-coat ran him in. 

• Neither of us gan no rumpus, 
'• We got mad and waded in 
" Just like any big policeman." 
And the blue-coat ran him in. 

" What (Yvi-' mean, ye little urchin, 

" You so dirty, small, and slim. 
••Acting up so bad this morning ? " 
And the blue-coat ran him in. 

"Please, sir." sobbed the little urchin, 

" I didn't mean to do no sin. 
•• I was playin' be policeman." 
And the blue-coat ran him in. 



30 



*syt/ c^pCl^Lck ^£zo~t^4. 



REST. 

When we're tired of labor and worry, 

And tired of the wear and the tear. 
Whan we're tired of hustle and hurry. 

And tired of business and care ; 
When we're tired of people and passions, 

And tired of custom's behest, 
When we're tired of duties and fashions. 

Then we seek for a place of rest. 

But no matter how footsore and weary, 

No matter how much we have borne. 
No matter how lonesome ami dreary. 

No matter how tired and worn; 
No matter how strong be our spirit, 

No matter how eager our zest, 
We may sometimes imagine we're near it, 

But still cannot find our rest. 

We may go from the eastern culture 

To the wilds of the western plain, 
We may go from the ranches of Texas 

To the lumber-camps of Maine — 
We may cross o'er either ocean. 

We may go from the east to the west. 
We can find all sorts of pleasure, 

But we never can find a rest. 

We may search where the zephyrs are mildest. 

Or search where the Wretched weep, 
We may search where the tumult is wildest, 

Or search in the calmest sleep; 
We may search from the tast to the slowest. 

Or search from the worst to the best. 
Wo may search from the high to the lowest. 

And we find that life has no rest. 



^So^m^-dA JYtlfoUi*-^ 31 



But, perhaps, when our strength is expended, 

Perhaps when our labor is done, 
Perhaps when this life shall be ended 

There may be a better one. 
Perhaps there may be a bright gateway 

That leads to a land of the blest, 
And if Ave may enter that portal 

Perhaps we shall there find rest. 



GIGGLE. 



I'm a maiden, pert and witty. 
I am young, and rather gritt3 T , 
And I guess I'm very pretty, — ■ 

At least so the fellows say. 
Bnl sometimes I have to giggle. 
With a silly giggle, giggle. 
And J giggle, giggle, giggle. 

And I can't slop anyway. 

Sometimes I begin to giggle 
Just because I have to giggle; 
And if you don't like to giggle, 

Please don't think me much to blame 
For when 1 begin to gig-ede 
I just giggle, giggle, giggle, 
And I don't know why I giggle, 

But I giggle, just the same. 

Then I think 1 mustn't ffiffffle, 
Ami I sober down my giggle : 
But the first 1 know \ giggle 

Till I simply can't sit still. 
And I giggle, giggle, giggle 
Till I haven't strength to wiggle. . 
Girls all sometimes have to giggle, 

And I think they always will. 



32 o-SvZ' C<7ti^3 \^5z<D~tyx^y 



ONE LITTLE BUMBLE-BEE AND I. 



SUGGESTED BY CELIA THAXTERS " LITTLE SANDPIPER. 



In a hollow log a nest, 

A little hatchet flourished high. 
The little bumble-bees protest, 

Rousing from the oak leaves dry. 
Away soar quickly all the rest, 

To meet the summer's azure sky. 
We promenaded two abreast — 

One little bumble-bee and I. 

Balmy was the summer air — 

Bright the clouds across the sky. 
The trees stood grim and sombre there. 

A light breeze moved their branches high. 
High up through the balmy air 

I watched the other bumbles fly. 
We had a little love affair — 

One little bumble-bee and I. 

I tried nv^ feelings to repress. 

I heard his low and pleading cry. 
I traveled pretty fast, I guess, 

But little bumbles love to fly. 
He paid to me his fond address, 

He viewed me with a fearless eye 
Our lips met close in a hot caress — 

Our little bumble-bee angi I. 

O pleasure of a first romance, 

That no restraint doth mollify! 
( )h, the bright and fearless glance, 

That flashes from a lover's eye ! 
With feelings strong Ave leap and dance. 

Alone beneath the summer sky. 
Alone in the forest's vast expanse — 

One little bumble-bee and I. 



vSw^^ y/dM^^ 33 



A ROBIN. 

A little cock-robin sat high on a tree 
And sang as merry as merry could he. 
Twas a hay-seed robin, with speckled face, 
And the town was a robins' watering place. 

But the season was o'er and the birds had flown. 
Each one to his warmer southern home. 
So the countrified robin sat high on a tree, 
Ami a free wild song of the woods sang he. 

And a nice little robin jusl over the way 
Had chirped as she listened to his wild lay. 
For the <j;av dude-robins had all gone home. 
Ami she felt it was wearisome there alone. 

But he listened to all that the charmer said 
And lie raised one tool and he scratched his head. 
And he wondered if. when the dude-birds came, 
This lovely chirper would chirp the same. 

And the little cock-robin sat still on his tree. 
And a very peculiar wink winked he. 
And he warbled not. and never a note 
Of triumph came from his little throat. 

Hut he closed one eye in a queerish way. 
And a butterfly listening heard him say. 
•• There'll be stronger robins, with redder breasts. 
•And prouder robins with taller crests. 
••So Til keep sort of scarce until they come again 
•• And hll see how thus nice little chirper chirps then. 



34 ^syis c*?CLa~&- J^Zo-t^^, 



NASBYVS HANNAH JANE 



One gloomy Sunday afternoon, when no one 

was at home, 
I rummaged through the bookcase in a 

manner of my own. 
I found an old newspaper where for years it 

must have lain, 
And the first-page, lengthy poem was 

Xasby's " Hannah .lane. 



I sni right down there on the floor ami 

read that poem throu^ h. 
I was deeply moved with pity, hut I 

felt disgusted, too. 
I can't imagine how a man with healthy 

heart and brain 
Could let his wife be such a slave as 

Nasbv's Hannah .lane. 



Such sacrifice is noble, but 'tis 

doubtful kindness still. 
For when yon reach success at last, and 

stand on to]> the hill. 
The pleasure must, it seems to me. be 

turned to bitter pain, 
To see your wife still in the ditch, like 

Xasby's I lannah Jane. 

There is a class of women who are 

always just like this — 
So awful good they make a man feel 

meaner than he is. 



No sacrifice too great to make — they're 

noble, that is plain. 
But they themselves refuse to rise — like 

Nasby's Hannah .lane. 

Such women are too saintly, and their 

duty over-rate, 
And while they have our pity, still they 

do exasperate. 
No true man wants such sacrifice for 

his own selfish gain, 
No true man wants a drudging slave, like 

Nasby's Hannah Jane 



CASH. 

What is it that's not sung in verse, 
Yet can all sentiment disperse? 
What is it rules the universe? 
Cash. 

What compensates for lack of brains? 
What covers up the blackest stains 
And lofty eminence attains? 
Cash. 

And if you would a maiden woo. 
And must competitors outdo, 
What makes the old gent smile on yon? 
Cash. 

But what, although of evil name. 
And of all rogueish tricks the aim. 
Is mighty handy, just the same? 
Cash. 



36 



^svCs <zu?C(-^t& jczo~i^£S 



VERY PLEASANT. 

Of all the balmy places 

That a boy was ever in, 
The one with most surprises 

And features new to him, 
When a startling panorama 

To bis youthful gaze unfurls. 
Is when lie first commences 

To shine around the girls. 

If there come an entertainment, 

A lid you ask one girl to go. 
You can bet your bottom dollar 

That the rest of them will know 
The day and hour you asked her. 

Whether you called or wrote, 
And nine or ten most intimate 

Will read your little note. 

There is something very soothing 

And consoling in the thought, 
As experiments have shown you 

And experience has taught, 
There is one thing very certain, — 

Howsoever sly you act, 
If you ever get the mitten 

The town will know the fact. 

If you hear a girl a-pining 
, To attend a certain dance, 
Never draw a rash conclusion 

From this little circumstance. 
That girl wards some special fellow. 

You can't always tell just who. 
But it's very safe to reckon 

That she doesn't pine for you. 



ySc**m*'M ft'dAUi*^ 37 



If yon seek the younger ladies 

yuu'll be very apt to learn 
Thai their grim paternal ancients 

Are particularly stern. 
How 1 love these grim paternals, 

"Who are always stiff and tame. 
And who keep their pretty daughters 

In a little crystal frame. 

Girls will show to one another 
Xotes and invitations too : 

And a tart you think they don't know- 
is exactly what they do. 

What with likings and dislikings — 
What with "papas" grim and stern, 

When you first attack the ladies 
You've an awful sight to learn. 

For of all the balmy places 

That a boy was ever in, 
The one with most surprises 

And features new to him. 
When a startling panorama 

To his youthful gaze unfurls, 
Is when he tij-st commences 

To shine around the curls. 



PUBLIC TEST. 




You never can tell what a teller will 


do. 


You uever can find his worse flaw, 




Till you get him set up in some high 


public 


place 




And tickle his ribs with a straw. 









38 



^yyU C^Ct^fc* \^co~-v^~^ 



THE POET'S LOT. 

[Kalamaz ;.'i/.ette, 1885.] 

When the editor's ;i prey to indigestion, indiges- 
tion, 
And his liver isn't working worth a cent, worth 
a cent, 
When he gives a gruff reply to every question, 
every question, 
And in grumbling o'er his woes Ids time is spent, 
time is spent — 

Then the poet makes some verses, and lie writes 
'em, and he writes 'em. 
And he brings 'em to the office when they're 
done, when they're done. 
And the editor takes a club and smites 'im, club 

and smites im — 
Oh, the poet's lot is not a happy one, happy one, 
The poet's lot is not a happy one! 



THE POET'S LOT. 
(lot no. 2.) 

When the poet's heated Mood has been a-boiling, 

been a-boiling, 
And his midnight oil has been a-burning low. 

burning low, 
When the poet has been faithfully a-toiling, and 

a-t oiling, 
While the editor is taking in the show, in the 

show — 



Then he renovates his verses with correction on 
correction, 

And he takes 'em to the office when they're 
done, when they're done. 

And he leaves 'era there to wait the chief's in- 
spection, chiefs inspection, 

And the office devil burns era every one. every 
one — 

No. the poet's lot is not a happy one. happy one. 

The poet's lot is not a happy one. 



A DUDE. 

A dnde from Chicago went north one July. 

Ah. there! 
This dandy dude's collar was three inches high, 

Ah. there! 
His cuffs were too Long, and his gloves were 

too light, 
His month was too big and his hands were 

too white. 
His hat was too tall and his pants were too 

tight, 

Ah. there ! 

This dnde from Chicago went out for a ride 

Ah there! 
Of a mean little mustang he sat him astride. 

Ah there! 
The poiry, when spurred, like a wild spirit 

tied.' 
Bui soon made a halt, stood the dnde on his 

head. 
And a wicked young tad) in a meat wagon 

said. 

••Ah there." 



I" ^yfils £4?ti&A s£ccr-i^4y' /oi 



PETERKIN SHADOW. 

My name ii is Peterkin Shadow, 

My life is i)l' infinite leifgl li. 
And a few certain directions 

I am gifted with infinite strength. 

I am usually called a hobgoblin. 

For although all creation I see. 
So airly is my constitution. 

That nobody ever saw me. 

In this great dismal valley of darknes 
They are all sometimes troubled with ills 

And to every sorrowing mortal, 
I'm the little hobgoblin that tills 

The office of private adviser— 

I always keep close to their side. 
And whenever their troubles oppress them. 

In me they can always confide. 

* 

!'m a distant relation of conscience. 

Though I'm usually not so obscure. 
Ami whenever they follow my teachings, 

Of success they are tolerably sure. 

When to my ears these sorrowing mortals 

Relate all their troubles and cares, 
I listen in peace to their wailings, 

And then help them out unawares. 

I'm a curious little hobgoblin, 
I am usually prompt with advice 

Of my words I'm remarkably saving, 
My warnings are very concise. 



sSW***^ WdfiC*^ 4 ] 



They, dawn on man's mental vision 
In the calmness that follows a storm, 

When the tempesl of wrath is subsiding, 
And lhs mental blast-furnace is warm. 

For you know when a man gets excited, 
And he dare not give vent to his mind. 

Then he raves at poor Peterkin Shadow. 
And in that he can generally find 

A vent for the wrath and the tempest 
[lis fiercely-wrought passion has fed. 

And then if he's sharp hell discover 
A few new ideas in his head. 

It's to me a man grumbles when something 
Does'nt suit his fastidious whim. 

It's to me he lets out his ill temper. 
Because 1 never grumble at him. 

It is true that some wives get the thunder. 

That man's will has kepi silenl when he 
Had a set-to with some one in the business. 

But lie always should thunder at me. 

For the wives have enough to distress I hem. 

Without getting the full benefit 
Of the temper he conquered in business. 

Whereas 1 never mind it a hit. 

So when all your will-power i^ excited. 

When you're cornered too awfully tight. 
When you've got your American blood up. 

And are getting good'ready to tight. 



42 s^yvty £4?d£& J^dr^i^ 



Don't you cave, or back down, or surrender, 
To keep peace, or for quietude's sake, 

Bui consult little Peterkin Shadow 
About the direction to take. 

In whatever of grief or affliction, 
In whatever of doubt or despair, 

No one over looked sternly about him, 
But what Peterkin Shadow was there. 

Against folly and foolish self-damage 
I'm the surest and strongest defense. 

And no mortal should e'er overlook me — 
I'm his keen-witted, best common sense. 



BUTTERMILK. 

When the mercury is high, 
When our blood begins to fry, 
When our temper's all awry. 
• live us buttermilk. 

When the banquet hoard is spread, 
When the sparkling wine is red. 
(live us something cool instead. — 
Pass the buttermilk. 

Whether at the desk or plow, 

It will cool your heated brow : 

Make arrangements with your cow 
To give buttermilk. 



oW^^^-e^C J0 / tlJe<Uv4-^ 



43 



DETERMINATION. 

Some men rise to fortune's highl 

And purple raiment wear. 

And some men run clear off the track 

And don't get anywhere. 

But if you've watched the crowd, you've 

found 
That in this Yankee nation, 
The men who rise all gain their ground 
By ffrim determination. 



With all unpleasant epithets 

Your enemies will dub you. 

And little men will say you're vain. 

And older men will snub you. 

But keep right on the way you please, 

In your own occupation : 

The only way to reach the top 

Is by determination. 

Keep calm and quiet, don't get wild, 

Press on. serene and steady: 

Whate'er you want that's right wull come 

When you yourself are ready. 

Whate'er of good you seek to gain, 

Whate'er of fame or station. 

You'll win it if you keep your course 

With eool determination. 



44 *^s{^ e#(Jjta J&trt^dS 



ADVICE. 

Go. '1c as I have did ; 

invite a girl to go 
To some church social festival, 

< >r strictly moral show ; 

Then sit around and sweat, and stew, 
And wait for her to answer you. 

Go. get as I have go4 ;■ 

A note, so neat and prim, 
That ■ Papa thinks that if I go 

•■ I'd better go with him." 

Then, of her company bereft. 

Go tell yourself that you gol left. 

Go hear, as I have heard. 

Some pretty damsels say 
"If. he's too tight to bring a girl. 

•• He'd better stay away." 
Then, in a state of mind serene. 

Go &xi your lonesome dish of cream. 

Go sit. as I have sot. 

And watch the crowd perform, 
Ami see that same girl walk away 

< »n another fellow's arm ; 

Then go you home at half past nine. 
And say yon had a splendid time. 

Go see. as I have saw. 

The u'irls don't like your style, 
liiil don't go off and kill yourself. 

.lust wait a little while. 
You might servive a day or two 

If none of them should smile on you. 



^frwrtsv-cXA /Ycijs^i^ 4.") 



Go think, as J have tliiink. 
You're not a ladies' man, 
But if you just behave yourself, 

And do the best you can. 
There's a crown tor your labors and 
peace for your lot, 
Whether the ladies all love you or 
not. 



TWO VERSES. 



BY TW'o GREAT POETS. 



Vet. though the ebbing of Time's mighty river 

Leave our young blossoms to die, 
Let him roll smooth in his current forever, 

Till the last pebble is dry. 

— Olliver Wendell Holmei 



This little license to roll on forever 

Is generous, kind, and well meant: 
Bui Time is quite able to run his own river. 

A)\d never asked Holmes' consent. 

— Samwell Jeheb Wilkini 



46 *SVL/ £U?CiA~5. SCZot^l^y /GP 



POE'S RAVEN. 

How distinctly I remember, late one evening 

last November. 
I was sitting on a barrel that the moonlight 

gloated o'er — 
Twus an empty cider barrel and was useful 

now no more — 
Worthless, now. forevermore. 

As a few lone stars were blinking, I betook 

myself to thinking, 
And I thought of that old raven Edgar Toe 

has told about — 
That was quite a high old raven .Mr. Poe 

has told about. 
I kept thinking, thinking, thinking, as those 

stars kept blinking, blinking, 
And the more 1 thought about it, I was more 

and more in doubl : 
Edgar's loeric knocked me out. 



Ami 1 found no explanation to that curious 

situation — 
Here's the lamp upon the table, and the raven 

on the door, 
And the lamplight o'er him streaming threw 

his shadow on the floor. 
Think of where the lamp was sitting and 

you cannot help admitting 
'I' was an awful crooked shadow to have ever 

reached the floor. 
Twas a hump-backed, cross-eyed shadow if it 

ever saw the floor. 



StwiwJl yydM^y 



47 



So I sought a clear solution to that shadow's 

dire confusion, 
And my only strong conclusion was thai Edgar 

had the snakes. 
I am sure he had been drinking and he 

must have had the snakes. 
So perhaps the raven, sitting on the cornice, 

never flitting, 
With its fiery eyes a-burning into Edgar's 

bosom core 
Was the whiskey he'd been drinking just before 

he fell to thinking 
Of his lovely lost Leonore. 

It was bug-juice, evermore. 



Or perhaps the maiden, deeming such a fellow 

too demeaning, 
Had preferred to share the fortunes of the 

friends who'd gone before. 
And had perished, broken-hearted, as fair 

maids have done before. 
Maybe he disgraced and slighted till she felt 

her life was blighted 
And her lonely soul, benighted, wandered to 

a fairer shore. 
.Maybe Edgar's drinking killed her, as it has 

killed girls before. 
It was benzine, evermore. 



(let most anybody frisky on a quart or two 
of whiskey, 

And he'd think he saw some shadows, or some 

ravens, or some floors, 
And the lamps would get befuddled, and the 

shadows awful muddled,. 



48 



^-^^(y c^Cl^t^. JcZo-iyx^y 



And he'd sec one " crazy raven perched on 

forty-' lev en doors ; 
And he wouldn't know a shutter from a dozen 

lost Leonores. 

If is my profound opinion that if Poe had 

kept dominion 
O'er his brains and o'er his reason, as they 

used to be of yore ; — - 
That if he bad been less frisky and bad guzzled 

down less whiskey 
He'd have never seen thai raven on the bust 

above bis door. 
\ erv likely that same evening bed been on 

a bust before. 
And ffot sober — nevermore. 



"FUN." 

There's lots of ways of having fun, 

Peculiar to the boys 
That no one else appreciates, 

And no one else enjoys. 
There arc lots of little monkeyshines 

I n which the boys take part, 
That are not so very awful bad. 

Nor yet so very smart. 






vSw^^ yydjL^ 49 



A GIDDY GIRL. 



( KKVISKD FROM AN OLD READER.) 



A giddy girl I am indeed, 

And little do I know. 
Much mother's care I yet shall need, 

That I may wiser grow ; 
If I would ever hope to do 
Things common, useful, good and true. 

There's nothing I can do, I know. 

To earn my daily bread: 
I can not hake, or sweep, nor sew: 

And yet I must be fed : 
But if I try, 1 think I may 
Learn just a little day by day. 

1 think I'd host begin at once 

To do what good I may. 
God never meant that such as I 

Should only live to play, 
And talk, and laugh, and dress and prink. 
And dance, and flirt, and never think. 

I'll just begin this very hour 

To act upon this plan. 
What little brains I have to spare, 

I'll use them while I can. 
If to learn something thus I try, 
1 may be some good by and by. 



50 



*~s{/L/ C^d^LB. SLZcrv^ds 



A HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW 



I read a little while ago, 

A piece that made me weep. 
Some gushing poet thinks we all 

In darksome graves will sleep: 
And ne'er will come a gentle hand 

To smooth our pallid brow. 
He says there'll nothing be the same 

A hundred years from now. 



And in the main I think him right, 

The world must move ahead. 
And new-found facts must be brought out 

And new ideas spread. 
Progressive science will the world 

With better thoughts endow. 
There's little here will be the same 

A hundred years from now. 



A hundred years, and all we love 

Will sleep beneath the sod, 
And different men, in different ways 

The paths of life will plod. 
But if I live until that time 

And try to milk a cow, 
She'll kick 7ne over just the same. 

A hundred years from now. 



oW*?*^^a yytifzUv*^ . si 



LITTLE WILLIE. 

Willie was his mamma's joy. 
Mamma loved her little hoy. 
He was gold without alloy — 

Brave little man. 
Willie used to go and play, 
Mamma said how long to stay. 
More than that he'd never stray — 

Sweet little land*. 

Willie played at pitch the knife, 
Willie used to lead the strife, 
Couldn't miss to save his life. 

Brave little man. 
() tliers for that peg might root 
With their noses black as soot. 
Noble fun did Willie suit. 

Sweet little lamb. 

What made the boys love Willie s< i ? 

He was pure as drifted snow 

While their mugs were black with woe. 

Brave little man. 
Willie did the time beguile 
Calm and peaceful all the while. 
With his lovely little smile. 

Sweet little lamb. 

Oh how pure was Willie's mirth 
When his friends, of vulgar birth 
Booted in the rotten earth ! 
Brave little man. 



52 



+svL- c^pCU^L^. ^czo~t^L^y 



Oh how vulgar was their joy, 
When this lovely little boy 
Missed, and must his teeth employ, 
Poor little lamb ! 



How they howled with fiendish glee 
As they drove that peg, for he 
Was so proper nice, you see 

Brave little man. 
He was equal, never tear. 
To the trial little dear 
Never waved or faltered here. 

Sweet little lamb. 

Willie must obey the rule, 

So went home, so clean and cool. 

To prepare for Sunday School, 

Brave little man. 
While his playmates howled for gore, 
Raved and cussed, ami ripped and tore 
Willie lead the Scriptures o'er. 

Sweet little lamb. 



NOT PATENTED. 

There's lots of patent almanacs 

That claim to speak the truth, 
Which tell about the patent things 

To keep the bloom of youth ; 
But just about the best receipt 

For keeping human buds, 
The best and surest Fount of Youth 

Is good soap suds. 



A POSSIBLE LOSS. 

Air of old song-, "When the red, rosy niorn grows bright, love," etc. 

How often have I wondered if von knew, love. 
When 'neath the bright and shining stars 
we've strayed. 
What an awful sight of cash I've spent on you, 
love, 
And eouldn'j: help but wonder if it paid. 

CHORUS. 

For if another shineth up to thee. love. 

And if with him you're happy and content. 
Then you're all right, hut as for me, love, 

Oh, where are all the shekels I have spent ? 

We all will waste a portion of our pearls, love. 

On whatsoever sport each one enjoys. 
I much prefer to waste them on the girls, love. 

To going on a bender with the hoys. 

CHORUS. 

But if another buzzeth up to thee. love. 

And if with him thou'rt happy and content. 
Then you're all right, hut as for me, love, 

Oh, where are all the shekels I have spent? 

A stingy fellow always is a churl, love, 

I like to see the money flowing free. 
But why exhaust my income on a girl, love. 

Until I know she won't go back on me? 

CHOlilS. 

For if another smileth upon thee, love, 

And if with him you're happy and content. 

Then he's all right, hut as for me, love. 

Oh. where are all those shekels 1 have spent? 



54 i^syis £4?CLaJ5. j£co~i^&. 



STRAIGHT THROUGH. 

As life's uneven path we walk, 

Our weary pilgrimage 
Is full of sloughs of every sort, 

From cradle to old age. 
We should not try to dodge them .all, 

We're cowards if we do. 
The only square and manly course 

Is right straight through. 

Although we try to live in j^eace, 

And strive with all our might, 
We run against disturbances, 

And then we have to tight. 
Be ever kind and courteous, 

Disturbances eschew; 
Hut when one tries to knock you down 

Go right straight through. 



Although we keep with even step 

The tenure of our way, 
We all get into tights enough, 

Be peaceful as we may. 
There are exceptions to the rule 

But I tell you 
The best way out of most of them 

Is right straight through. 



* 



vW<* ^ yydM*^ 55 



MY MOTHER'S COOKIES. 

How dear to this heart is the clear recollec- 
tion 

Of Saturday bakings when I was a child! 

How I watched the proceedings with keenest 
inspection, 

And danced round the table in ecstacy wild! 

But dearer than all the nice things they 
were making, 

And watched with the most unaccountable 
greed, 

Were the cookies that formed the last part 
of the baking, — 

My mother's white cookies with caraway seed; 

Those white sugar cookies, my mother's best 
cookies, 

Those dear little cookies with caraway seed. 

I remember just how they mixed sugar and 

butter, 
Then stirred all the other ingredients in : 
How the circles were stamped with the tin 

cookie -cutter 
When the dough had been rolled till sufficient- 
ly thin. 
With how great dispatch was their quality 

proven ! 
Their flavor was tried with what wonderful 

speed 
When, steaming and fragrant they came from 

the oven, — 
My mother's white cookies with caraway seed. 
Those white sugar cookies, my mother's best 

cookies, 
Those dear little cookies with caraway seed. 



5G 



r^yf/ls £j?CtMj^ ^Urtyx^y' ATj 



The year's hurry onward, and, little no 
longer, 

I gave up the pleasure of watching them 
bake. 

A tall, awkward school-boy, developing strong- 
er, 

To soberer problems of life I awake. 

But when, after studying all I was able, 

O'er problems to cipher, and Latin to read. 

How sweet to come home, and to find on the 
table 

A batch of fresh cookies with caraway seed ! 

Then I sampled those cookies, my mother's 
best cookies, 

Those dear little cookies with caraway seed. 

As toward the great Future the fleet years are 
speeding, 

As new thoughts come crowding our minds, 
thick and fast : 

The new pictures room in our memories need- 
ing. 

The old ones are lost and forgotten at last. 

But though time may some dear remembrances 
sever. 

Though age may the clearness of memory 
impede, 

Still they will be fresh in my memory ever. 

My mother's white cookies with caraway seed. 

Those white sugar cookies, my mother's best 
cookies, 

Those dear little cookies with caraway seed. 



vSw?^^ yyd/&L*^i 



BOOK AGENTS NEVER DIE. 



Book agents never die, 
E'en though they fade. 

Thin cheek and falcon eye 
Deathless were made. 

What though the summer day 

Passeth at eve away, 

Still doth the agent stay 
Into the night. 



Book agents never die — 

Haven't time to rest. 
Oh, how like sin they lie 

When they're at their best ' 
Like childhood's simple rhymes, 
They come a thousand times. 
And in all years and climes, 
Distant and near. 



Book agents never die — 
Guess they never will. 

If in the grave they lie 
They could not keep still. 

Many a daisy spring. 

Many a truthless thing. 

Still doth the agent sing. 
Bright to the last. 



58 



^SvV C^CL^a J&<rv^£, 



BEFOKE ELECTION. 

Why is it that the wealth don't pour 
As freely after as before? 
Why is it every man you meet 
Will smile, and bow, and want to treat 
Before election? 

The candidate who seeks to beat 
Takes any means to shun defeat. 
To tell each other's faults they try, 
And, Holy Moses! how they lie, 
Before election ! 

But afterward some faces wear 
A little trace of grief and care. 
Cigars rest in men's pockets, hid, 
And don't pop out just like they did 
Before election. 

Before that time all men enjoy 
To smile on every growing bo} r . 
They call 'em " Mister," slighting none. 
For some boys might be twenty-one 
Before election. 

According to the scenes they paint 
Each candidate's a perfect saint, 
A villain each competitor. 
They say all's fair in love or war, 
Before election. 

It's just these little dirty tricks 
That make a farce of polities. 
Go search Burns' writings all you can. 
He never said that " Man's a man 
" Before election."' 



oW^w yydjsz*^\ 59 



KEPT BLOWING. 

The editor sat in his office there, 

Scribbling his daily scribble. 
A mouse in the corner, under the chair 

Was nibbling his daily nibble. 
Pencils were were working and all was still. 

Locals were silently flowing. 
The curtain kept flapping against the sill, 

And the cold north wind kept blowing. 

A book-agent came with a stately tread. 

His style it was very aggressive. 
A glittering stove-pipe adorned his head. 

His manner was very impressive. 
He spoke of his new and most wonderful book. 

His words were impassioned and glowing. 
The editor gave him a pitying look, 

And the cold north wind kept blowing. 

He opened his book and went on to relate 

In regard to the illustrations, 
The cost of each picture proceeded to state 

With blandishing machinations. 
The work was one every man should buy ; 

It was full of great facts worth knowing. 
The editor sighed with a deep-drawn sigh, 

And the cold north wind kept blowing. 

The book was a wonder, the book-agent said, 
All knowledge and wisdom including. 

A gutteral mutter was gently heard. 
And presently came protruding 



60 *-^ / yl<' e^Ci^ j£co-t^4s 



From under the table a big black bead, 
And the canine's wrath was glowing. 

" S-s-sick-'im, Carlo,'' the editor said, 
And the cold north wind kept blowing 



STICK TO IT. 

When you once begin a thing. 

Stick to it. 
Grit alone success will bring. 

Stick to it. ♦ 

Though your place be not as high, 
If with all your strength you try. 
There's promotion by and by. 

Stick to it. 

Are you apt at anything? 

Stick- to it, 
Can you write, or draw, or sing? 

Stick to it, 
Rise among the lofty few, 
Don't you stop or lizzie through. 
You'll regret it if you do — 

Stick to it. 

Have you work you hate and dread 7 

Stick to it. 
Surely there is light ahead. 

Stick to it, 
Never falter, never stop, 
Never let your courage drop. 
Some day you'll come out on top. 

Stick to it. 



sSu***^ yyd^i*^ ei 



ROMANCE. 



Who. living in grim solitude, 
One day his lonely lot reviewed, 
And plans for brighter future brewed? 
Josiah. 



And who, in private mental si rite, 
Bemoaned the ills of single life, 
And thought about a second wife? 
Josiah. 



Who. in a state of mild despair, 
Then blacked his boots and combed his hair 
To go and see his lady fair? 
Josiah. 



Who got into his Sunday clothes. 
Put in his button-hole a rose. 
And brushed his teeth, and blew his nose'.-' 
Josiah. 



Who, deftly wielding Cupid's dart 
And wooing with most subtle art. 
Beseiged the lovely Sarah's heart? 
Josiah. 



Now Sarah's heart was all a-glow 
And what to do she didn't know. 
She said, "Oh, dear! don't urge me so, 
■• Josiah." 



62 



*svC £*tC<^\2z \SCZo~t^& 



But yielding soon to Cupid's sway. 
She promised, ere he went away, 
To love, and honor, and obey 
Josiah. 



" For she who stops a stream with sand. 
" Or fetters flame with flaxen band. 
" Has yet a harder task to prove 
" By 'Arm resolve to conquer — " 
Josiah. 



TOO SWEET. 



A kitten looked |up with a sanctified grin 
Singing "Birdie, nice birdie, sweet birdie."' 

When the robin descended she gobbled 
him in 
Singing "Birdie, nice birdie, sweet birdie. 

It is so with the compliments some people 
pay 

If we loiter a little we can't get away; 

And the cold iron bars of our prison still say 
" Nice birdie, dear birdie, sweet birdie.'' 




Swfji yydU^\ 63 



PRACTICAL FARMING. 

Ill tell you how I'd run a farm, 

If I were a farmer. 
'Tie not that I would ever know 
A cabbage from a 'tater row. 
'Tis not that I could ever tell 
What things were going ill, or well. 
Tis not that I am thinking now 
To sheath the pen and wield the plow 
Tis not that I've a better way 
To harvest wood, or cradle hay. 
I'll tell you. just because I feel 
That all our farmers' woe or weal 
Depends upon the good advice. 
The novel plans, the ways precise. 
The useful hints and patent schemes. 
The lofty thoughts and fairy dreams 
Of literary scribes who tell 
The newest ways of farming well. 
I like them, and I, too, I think, 
Could run a farm — with pen and ink. 
So now I'll tell my plans to you. 
I know exactly what I'd do — 
If I were a farmer. 

\\\ have no use for milking pails. 

If I were a farmer. 
I'd have a vat in each cow's stall 
And run small pipes, so each and all 
Would furnish her own proper share 
To fill a ponderous tankard, where 
These small conductors all would end. 
And to that tank my cans I'd send. 
I wouldn't have to milk by hand. 
Inventive genius would expand 



6 4 o^SvO C^Cl^tB. ^LZot^l^ 



Until I'd struck some happy plan 
For steel to work instead of man. — 
Until I'd found some patent thing 
To do the milking. So I'd bring 
My dairy business down so fine 
-No cows would pay as well as mine — 
It' 1 were a farmer. 



I wouldn't have such dirty pigs. 

If I were a farmer. 
It isn't healthy for their blood, 
To get all dirt, and dust, and mud. 
I'd give them water in their shed 
To wash before they went to bed. 
I'd make their bath-tub good and big, 
And every hog and little pig- 
Would wash his face and have it clean 
Before at breakfast he'd he seen. 
No pig would crowd, or push, or squeal, 
Or make a noise at any meal. 
Hut all would strictly toe the line 
Like very proper, high-toned swine. 
And they would all be clean and white. 
And sweet, and genteel, and polite. 
I'd teach them tacts, and you just bet 
I'd make my pigs learn etiquette. 

It' I were a farmer. 



I wouldn't have to hunt for ea^s 

It' 1 were a farmer. 
I wouldn't have them scattered 'round 
In shaky lofts, and on the ground. 
I'd have a patent egg-crate made 
And hens would go there when they laved. 
I'd have a nest with slide in place 
To drop each egg in each square space 



$t»w</l lo'dAu^ 65 



And cadi maternal, well-bred hen 
Would mount this great contrivance when 
It seemed her duty so to rest 
Upon a downy, feathered nest. 
And hens would stand in solemn line 
To wait their turn and proper time. 
And every hen, when she had staid 
Serene until an egg she'd laid. 
Would quote some solemn, fitting text, 
And clamber down, and holler "Next! 
I'd never hunt for eggs, you see. 
I'd have the eggs all brought to me. 
If I were a fanner. 

There's lots of other things I'd change 

If I were a farmer. 
I'd march my sheep to no small brook 
And work to see how white thov'd look, 
Then march them home, a mile or more. 
Till they were blacker than before. 
I'd wash them with soap suds and steam, 
And shear them with a lawn machine. 
I'd keep my stock all clean and neat. 
From rose-wood tables they should eat. 
I'd keep their combs on little shelves 
And make my horses groom themselves. 
They might as well accomplish that 
As easily as does a eat. 

So now. foresooth, I've told to you 
The way I'd scheme, and what I'd do. 
I've told you, just because I feel 
That all our farmers' woe or weal 
Depends upon the good advice, 
The novel plans, the ways precise, 
The useful hints, the patent schemes, 
The lofty thoughts and fairy dreams 



66 



«_^ / Cy C^Ci^t^- SCZo-i^^, 



Of literary scribes who tell 
The latest ways of farming well. 
1 like them, and I too. I think, 
Could run a farm —with pen and ink- 
W I were a farmer. 



TO HASH. 

Where thou groweth 
No man knoweth. 

To be sure. 
Thou art mystery. 
And thy history 

Is obscure. 

If Eve. demented, 
Thee invented, 

She was rash. 
Wasn't thou born in 
Eden's garden, 

O. thou hash? 

it's wearing! 

All my daring- 
Gone to smash. 

Cautious growing. 

Merely knowing 

Thou art hash. 

Guileless seeming, 
Thou art steaming, 

Tempting hot. 
Thus I greet thee. 
Shall I eat thee? 

I guess not. 



^pt^nu/dl yyd^u^ 67 



MARKS ON THE WALL. 

In an office in a city. 

Where they had a lady clerk'. 
< 'a me a spectacled reporter 

Where the lady was at work. 
And upon the radiator. 

And upon the wall near by. 
Gathered thick the dust of ages 

And was suffered there to lie. 



And upon the radiator. 

Covered thickly but tor that. 
There were found two dustless patches, 

Where two people might have sat. 
And about two feet above it. 

Where the heads were apt to fall. 
In that darksome dust of ages. 

There were marks upon the wall. 

And those marks upon the plaster. 

By some subtle fairy art. 
Had assumed a queer position, 

.lust a half an inch apart. 
It was all a hit peculiar, 

But the strangest thing of all 
And the hardest to account for. 

Were those marks upon the wall. 



Though the wisdom of the ages 
On that point lie brought to hear. 

Though our scientific sages 
Study it with earnest care. 



68 



— syl ' c^?C(.^ta ^cZcn^dS 



E'en though all the world may ponder 
Until Gabriel's trumpet-call, 

Still the world will always wonder 
How those marks came on the wall. 



SEA-SICK. 



Briny Ocean, e'er we part, 
Give, oh, give me hack my heart. 
(Jive me hack my walking-gear, 
(Jive me back my breakfast dear. 
Or, since that has left my breast, 
Keep it now, and take the rest. 
Overboard my feelings go. 
Oh. my stomach. Oh! Oh!! Oh!!! 

Briny Ocean, heaving high. 
Kiss me once, and let me die. 
I've an awful gone-ness now. 
There are cold drops on 1113- brow. 
Angry Ocean, rolling by, 
Wash me in, and let me die. 
Overboard my feelings go. 
Oli, my stomach, Oh! Oh!! Oh!!! 

Briny Ocean, let me rest 

On thy highest billow's crest. 

Keep me from this sinking woe. 

To thy lowest depths I go. 

As thou rollest, dark and blue, 

1 am sinking way down through. 

Overboard my feelings go. 

Oh. my stomach! Oh! Oh!! Oh!!! 



^e^nt^tii fadAu^ 09 



Briny Ocean, still thy tide. 

As thou rock'st from side to side 

How I wish that I were dead. 

Then thou stand'st me on my head. 

Ocean, rock me not to sleep 

In thy cradle of the /leep. 

Overboard my feelings go. 

Oh, my stomach ! Oh ! Oh ! ! Oh ! ! ! 

Briny Ocean, let me go. 

Why dost torture people so ? 

If I'm ever safe on shore 

I will travel thee no more. 

Oh, but 1 can't wait to land! 

Kill me now, while here I stand. 

Overboard my feelings go. 

Oh, my stomach. Oh ! Oh ! ! Oh ! ! ! 



GONE. 



Where, O where are the rinks and the rollers 
That used to be such a wild rage? 

Gone, with tbe rubbish of Life's panorama. — 
Fired back under the stao-e. 



Where, O where is the rush and the tumble 
The terrible rumble and roar ? 

Gone, like a kitten that's hit with a brickbat- 
Faded, to blossom no more. 

Where, O where is that loud, rolling thunder. 

The sprawling, the chalk -dust, and strife ? 
Gone, where the grasshoppers go in the 
winter — 

Up the tin eavespout of life. 



70 



w^C'- £&CIaJ5. j£ocn^4y 



PEESTO CHANGO ! 



Sempronius Prigg and Miltiades Piso 

Were invited on§ night to a stylish high tea. 

I couldn't say why so 

But Mr. Piso 
Was much more sedate than was his wont 
to be. 



And so Mr. Prigg kept his eye on Sir Piso,, 
And watched him quite carefully all the 
meal through, 
And while he so eyed him, 
lie presently spied him 
Slip a fine silver tea-spoon down into his 
shoe. 



Sempronius Prigg, when he saw Mr. Piso, 
Thought that a remarkably provident 
act. 
Accordingly, he soon 
Was poking a tea-spoon 
Away in his pocket with subtlest tact. 



But the hostess she happened to see this 

manoeuvre, 
And asked our firiend what he was trying 
to do. 
Now that was a very 
Embarrassing query 
And to ask him before a whole table -full, 
too. 



>$**»t*t/l y/dM^^ n 



But Prigg very promptly responded " Well, 

Madam, 
" I was going to show you a neat little 
game; 
" Of course you don't know it, 
" But I will now show it, 
•I'm a slight -of- hand artist of no little 
fame. 



Now, Madam, I'll take this most elegant 

tea-spoon, 
And it goes into my pocket, as every one 
sees, 
• And now I am able 
"While still at this table 
To send this same teaspoon wherever 
I please. 

■Now this is a wonderful, rare exhibition, 

• But still if you please I will show it 

to yon. 
"Now Spirito Venito 
" Presto tu chango. 

• You will now find your spoon in that 

gentleman's shoe." 




+-^4^ C^Cl^* J&o-l^-^s' 



THE EDITORS' PICNIC. 

Battle Creek Moon — July, 1885. 

Thirty little editors 

All in town to-day, 
Thirty pair of little feet 

On the stony way. 
Thirty little whistles <hy. 

Lots of thirst to slake. 
Thirty little street-car fares 

Out to Goffuac lake. 



Thirty little editors 

Seeking for some fun. 
Thirty little Sunday coats, 

Shining in the sun. 
Thirty little pocketbooks 

Getting awful lean: 
Thirty little appetites, 

Ponderously keen. 

Thirty little journalists 

Came to celebrate. 
Thirty little notices 

Will describe the fete. 
Thirty little stomach-aches 

Witness to the fact. 
That thirty little supper- plates 

Xothino- tothsome lacked. 



^Pwvct'-etX /yi£^ei^\ 73 



DISTANCE LENDS ENCHANTMENT. 



One by one our strange delusions 
Vanish at the break of day, 

One by one our dreams grow vapid, 
And our fancies fade away. 



I had heard of a maid of most wonderful 

grace, 
An olden -time naid of heavenly face, 
A fairy ideal of all that was fair. 
And certain all masculine hearts to ensnare. 
Thime Rumor had painted a picture for 

me, 
Such as seldom is given for mortals to 

see. 
Twas a girl of some seventeen summers 

or so, 
Whose hand was as white as the wind- 
driven snow 
Her form of such beauty and exquisite 

mould. 
As to rival the world-famous statues of 

old. 
She had long, glossy ringlets of raven - black 

hair. 
And despite her black eyes, she was won- 

drously fair. 
( )f sweet disposition, o'erflowing with 

mirth. 
An olden -time nymph on this prosaic 

earth, — 
A fairy ideal of all that was fair. 
And certain all masculine hearts to ensnare. 
Dame Rumor had painted this picture for 

me 
Such as seldom is given for mortals to see. 



74 ^yyL e^Ci^^ ^drt^i^. 



" But the sails we see on the ocean 
"Are as white as white can be, 

" While never a one in the harbor 
" As white as the sails at sea." 

One night at a party I happened to sec 
What my friends had so long been describ- 
ing to me. 
She sat on a sofa, — upstairs in the hall. 
I saw her in passing — one short glance 

was all. 
Then I came in the parlor, shook hands 

with mine host, 
Saluted the ladies assembled, and lost 
The first bashful tremble that anyone feels 
When a first glance around him the gay 

throng reveals. 
Then, after a moment this goddess of 

grace 
Appeared; and the light of her beautiful 

face 
Like a ray of pure sunlight o'ershadowed 

the hall. 
As it fell on fine jewels and dazzled them 

all. 
I was soon introduced to the beautiful maid. 
To be sure she was beautiful, although 

arrayed 
In a costume that some might consider to 
Cut too low in the neck by a goodly 

degree, 
I said I was much pleased to meet her, and 

then 
I was filled with ecstatic enjoyment, when, 
While a puzzled expression her features 

o'erspread, 
Came a very loud "Huh?" from the lips 

rosy red. 



*0' 



CfrvtfJA' 



to 



"The clouds that crown the mountains 

"With silver and gold delight 
" Turn to cold gray mist and vapor, 

"E're ever Ave reach the height." 

When we went to refreshments I happened 

to sit 
Very near her, and watching the bright 

shadows flit 
O'er her countenance, soon to the lady I 

spoke, 
Ami by and by ventured a very weak joke. 
And the nymph sweetly smiled, and her 

pearly teeth shone 
Between lips that would rival a goddess' 

own, 
And in tones of clear cadence, as sweet as 

could be, 
The beautiful fairy informed me that she 
Should consider it too much to ask of 

mine host 
To feed me for nothing, and she thought 

that most 
Any fellow who ate in that starved - 

kitten way 
Should at least have some mercy, and offer 

to pay. 
And her goodly advice had considerable 

Aveight 
When she charmingly added " Don't swal- 
low that plate ! " 

" Ah, the mountains wear crowns of glory 

" Only when seen from >far. 
"And the sails loose all their whiteness 

" Inside the harbor bar." 

The music was playing in quick, stirring- 
time, 



76 w^t-- £j?Cl^Uz ' SCZa-tsi^, 



And the fairy had honored a young friend 

of mine 
With her hand for the polka, and in the 

glad host. 
And the whirlpool of dancers were both 

them lost 
From my sight for a moment, then once 

more they glance 
In the light of the whirling and dizzying 

dance. 
She was talking and laughing the whole 

of the while, 
And was beaming upon him her most 

beaming smile. 
Then, without any warning, the lovely maid 

stopped. 
To her own scanty costume her matchless 

eyes dropped, 
And her heavenly smile I shall never forget 
As ••Golly!'' she said, "Ain't I drippirt 

with sweat?" 
My friend, who, dumbfounded, stood glued 

to the spot, 
Said he couldn't quite tell, but believed she 

was not. 

" Oh Distance, thou fair enchantress ! 

'•Still hold in the inagie vale 
"The glory of far-off mountains, 

"The gleam of the far-off sail!" 



\^c^m^-ciX >%4^^S 



. . 



OFFENSIVE PARTISANSHIP. 

When a man in the opposite party 
Is upright, and honest, and square, 

When he quietly minds his own business, 
And is accurate, courteous, and fair : 

When all other charges miscarry 

And they're dying to hit him a clip. 

Then they enter that blackest oi charges, 
Offensive Partisanship. 



There are often good reasons for lying. 

It is not a dishonor to steal. 
In fact if you're always successful 

It is highly eclat and genteel. 
There may be excuses for murder 

The sweet wine of vengeance to sip. 
But never can anything warrant 
( )ffensive Partisanship. 

In the most of the other offenses. 

There are ways of escaping the law. 
There are ways of evading and dodging, 

And of finding a technical flaw. 
But although you be sly as Ulysses 

Never hope you can give them the slip 
If you're up on that worst of all charges, 
Offensive Partisanship. 



Here's Jinkins, he's got a big backing 
That shows he is tit for some place. 

It shows how the people all love him. 
And how he should Perkins displace. 



78 



« — / v(s C4tCLa2* SCZcrtsi^S 



Then why should the}" tarry a moment 

Since Jmkins is ready and flip, 
And Perkins deserves to he banished 
For Offensive Partisanship. 

Then Blinkins thinks he ought to have it 

For certainly Perkins must go. 
And Postmaster- General Yilas 

Is a great friend of Blinkins. you know. 
() why don't they put him in office. 

And give Mr. Perkins the slip ? 
He's forfeited all but his freedow 
By Offensive Partisanship. 

Then Dinks, hacked by Congressman Grilkins, 

Is another quite suitable man, 
He is rather too modest to push things. 

But he's doing the best that he can. 
They are all rather blushing and bashful 

To keep a good stiff upper lip. 
But they're all of them many times better 
Than offensive Partisanship. 

If you're drunk, you're unlucky, poor fellow } 
And they'll handle you gently in court. 

If you lie. it's because you're obliged to; 
If you steal, it's because you are short. 

If you murder, of course 3^011 are crazy, 
But you ought to be hung if you're nipped 

For that blackest of human outrages — 
Offensive partisanship. 



MORAL AND SEQUEL. 

If you're thinking of making :i |>ot|»ic 
Of some chicks that von're <roiii£>- to catch. 



v£w**^ yydfeu^ . 79 



Don't invite all your friends in to dinner 
Till those dear little chickens are hatched. 

For betweeh the fresh eggs and the potpie 
There is many and many a slip. 

Sometimes little chickens get frightened 
At Offensive Partisanship. 



THE CUCUMBER. 

I'm a little cucumber, and don't care 

a cent 
Who I am. or where came from. On 

mischief I'm bent. 
I'm a hard little cucumber, crooked 

and green. 
I'm a tough little cucumber, wicked 

and mean. 



You may talk of grim Capital grinding 

the poor, 
Or of Anarchy's vengeance so awful 

and sure. 
You may talk of the heart-aches — the feelings 

that gall — 
1 can torture humanity worst of them all. 

Let him try to get out of my grip if 

he can. 
But if ever 1 once get a-hold of a man. 
I can wring him. and twist him till woe 

is his lot. 
1 can tie him all up in a double bow-knot. 



80 



w SyU CjTCt^t&L j£tO~t^4s 



I can pucker him up till he crawls on 

the ground, 
1 can jerk him, and yank him, and kick 

him around, 
Until he cannot tell from the way that 

he feels 
Whether he stands on his head or his 

heels. 

I can "-ether him up with a pucker-snatch 

string. 
I can double him over, and then \ can 

wring 
From the depths of his heart the mosl 

harrowing moan, — 
Make him howl bloody -murder, perspire, 

and groan. 

You may gather all wickedness man ever 
ate 

And you never can find the green cucum- 
ber's mate; 

Von may gather all tyrants of whom poets 
sing. 

But the little green cucumber always is 
kinu'. 






y^&wt^-elX J0 / <l£^&?v4\ 81 



LITTLE LESSONS. 

Children, you must love each other, 
Must be ever kind and true. 

You must always kick at others 
If they try to kirk at you. 

Learn life's precious little lessons 

As the little moments fly. 
If a little playmate hit you 

Stick your finger in his eye. 

It is sweet to do to others 

As you'd have them do to you. 

That's the way to do — providing 
That they'll do the same way too. 

You can't be a little angel, 

Flying 'mid life's summer flowers. 

Little wings get awful dirty 
In this wicked world of ours. 

What's the use of teaching children 
That this life's a sunny vale, — 

That the good will always prosper 
And the had will always fail? 

Lives of great men all remind us 
We must work, and toil, and slave. 

And. departing, leave behind us 
All the cash that we can save — 

Cash that our relations lawyers 
Will divide with fiendish glee, 

Just because they're somewhat sharper 
And have better sense than we. 



H2 



s-Syl<' £jtCL^\J5. ^£co-~l<\^. 



ONWARD. 

Why all this hurry, hurry, 
This jeopardizing health? 
Why all this worry, worry. 
To gain enormous wealth ? 
Is not enough a plenty ? 
Why fret and get the blues 
When we've enough already. 
And more than we can use? 

We must keep trying, trying. 
And close attention give, 
But what's the use of dying 
To gain the means to live ? 
With money in our pockets 
And money in the hank 
Why work till health is drudgery 
And life itself a blank ? 

Why not be learning, learning, 
Of all that's great and high? 
Why always yearning, yearning. 
To lay more money by? 
Why should a man keep working 
And saving till he dies? 
What earthly good is money 
Except for what it buys? 

Keep all art nigher, nigher, 
The fruits of brush and pen. 
They lift us higher, higher. 
And make us better men. 
Keep learning, keep improving, 
Through all the work and strife. 
** Keep laboring, and rising. 
And a;et some use of life. 



^PWti^fAA //U^Cisyis^ 



GO HOME. 



Yes, wise is the classieal student 

Who delves in the tombs of the past, 

And wise he who knows all the planets, 
And the laws of the distant and vast. 



And wise is the man with politeness 
Bred deep in the flesh and the hone. 

But wiser than these is the fellow 

Who always knows when to go home. 



A man may he strikingly handsome 
And his manners and hearing he fine. 

He may be entertaining and witty. 
And may all of the graces combine. 



A man may be otherwise perfect. 

But lor thai single failing alone 
He ought to be pitched out the window. 

If he doesn't know when to u'o home. 



Do not sit until your entertainers 

Seem to gape off the top of their heads,- 

Until everybody is sleepy. 
And is pining to go to bed. 

Do not stay till the story you're telling 

Gets wearisome, tired, and slow. 
Do not stay till you hear them whisper 
•() gracious ! .Why don't he go?" 



84 



^^yUe^Ci^ J^zcn^dy 



Don't stay till the talk grows stupid. 

And every question lags. 
Don't stay till time hangs heavy. 

And conversation drags. 

Don't stay till they answer your question 

By starling up from a doze. 
Don't stay till the tongues grow weary. 

And the eyelids all but close. 

Don's stay till your hosts retire, 
And leave you talking alone. 

Don't stay till you hear them snoring, — 
But Suffering Moses! — Go home! 

Go home, where a downy pillow 

Awaits your empty head. 
Go home to your humble wigwam. 

Go home and go to bed. 

And when you lie in your chamber 
All silent, and calm, and alone, 

Just pray that you may grow wiser, 
Till you know 'enough to go home. 



vWW^ yydk^\ 85 



THE MUGGINS FAMILY. 

The Rothschild family boasts of wealth, 
And the Medici family of old 
Could boast of their vessels on every sea 
And their coffers filled with gold. 
The great Smith family too can boast 
Of a wonderful family tree 
That is spreading its branches in every clime, 
And it stretches from sea to sea. 

But of far greater range than all others 

I've told, 
And broader in branches, and richer in gold. 
Vnd more widely famous than any of these, 
And fanned by the waftings of every breeze, 
In every country and in all time, 
In every kingdom and every clime, 

Is the world-wide Muggins family. 

I think that as long as the worlds remain 
The Muggins family will lie the same. 
They always have,' and they always will 
Be a cold air-damper,— a sort of chill 
On every effort to move ahead. 
They lack vitality, seem half dead. 
They have some brains, but they seem to mope. 
With no ambition and little hope. 
They cant get out of the ruts and lines. 
Of the slower methods for earlier times. 
Their beads resemble Milwaukee brick. 
Their thoughts are slow, and their brains 
are thick — 
This famous Muggins family. 



Spreading its branches in every clime. 
It is holding its membership all the time. 
For each one that fadeth another is born, 
And every vesper and every morn 
Finds the number the same in the ranks 

each day, 
As the army of Mugginses keeps on its way. 
Von will find them in every path of life, 
But in all the struggle and all the strife 
They are always the same. They are always 

a bore. 
They [tell you things that you've heard before. 
For their heads are thick and their eyes 

are blind. 
They are always befuddled and always 

behind — 
This wonderful Muggins family. 

They are stubborn and stolid, you'll always find. 
And never a Muggins changes his mind. 
They are seldom prosperous — seldom rise. 
There is too much dust in their sleepy eyes. 
No chance or opening they discern. 
They stupidly plod, and they never learn. 
For they never do anything keen or quick. 
Their brains are cloudy, and tough, and 
thick — 
This wonderful Muggins family. 

You can easily pick out, as a rule. 

The little Mugginses when at school. 

They are always stupid and dumb iir elass. 

They seldom manage to more than pass. 

And though they study to some degree. 

They never appreciate, never see t 

What the teacher is driving; at. and in vain 



ySa^K^-cUL Wilfoun^ 87 



The question or problem dot's she explain. 

They usually stand and vacantly gap 

( )r sit and absently take a nap. 

They are not very troublesome — only thick". 

Their intellects clog, and their reasonings 

stick; 
And the teacher finds it's beyond her reach 
To interest, waken, instruct, or teach 

These sprouts of the Muggins family. 

Then they grow, and strengthen, and stupify. 

Till they're full-fledged Mugginses by and by. 

And the}' go into business in some small way 

And go through the routine, day by day. 

If they get the patronage that they need 

They generally manage to half succeed. 

But if competition is brisk and strong 

These cloudy Mugginses can't stand Long. 

So they move to some smaller, cheaper place 

And there they mope at their chosen pace. 

And they're peaceful and happy, and there 
they stay 

'Till they're feeble, ami palsied, and old. and 
gray. 

For they can't go taster, or push, or plan. 

And they know no more than when they be- 
gan — 
This famous Muggins family. 

And when a Muggins is past his day, 
When he yields to the pressure of youth's de- 
cay, 
When he steps aside from the active line 
And waits for the finishing hand of Time. 
When he's failed fair Fortune's smile to entice 
Then his best delight is to give advice. 
He can give you any advice yon need. 



s-^yL/ e^?Ci^3. j&jd-v^^. 



He can tell you how you can best succeed. 
He speaks from experience's lofty height, 
As if he had won, and not lost, the fight. 
If you ever start on a new device 
You will get a plenty of .Muggins advice 
From these sires of the Muggins family. 



There are Mugginses all of the wide world o'er. 
If you seek to escape them you'll find some 

more. 
And you'll think, if you watch them with half 

your sight. 
That the threadbare motto of Puck is right. 
And perhaps, if you watch with too scrupulous 

care 
You may conclude that the largest share 
< >!' all the creatures that grace this earth. — 
That the most of us mortals belong by birth 
To the famous Muggins family. 



K$t»*m*<fl y/d^u^ 89 



BASE - BALL. 

Had I tried to seek distinction 

About fifty years ago, 
There are many facts and figures 

That I might have had to know. 
But to-day if I the ladder 

Of success would wish to climb, 
1 can catch high-flying fortune 

In a hase-liall nine. 

I see no use of studying. 

Of hooks and all of that. 
I prefer to catch my knowledge 

Bed -hot. from off the bat. 
J wouldn't he a scientist. 

A teacher, or divine. 
I can draw a better salary 

In a base -hall nine. 

Playing third, or first, or second. 

J can put grief out. each day. 
And 1 never muff a dollar 

[f it chance to come my way. 
For when lecturers are starving. 

And when journalists repine, 
I am pitching in the money 

With my base -hall nine. 

When life's innings are all over. 

When that great match game is done. 
When 1 go to hear the verdict 

Whether I have lost or won. 
With my tallies, hits, and errors, 

1 will calmly wait in line 
To lie batted o'er the river 

Willi the base-ball nine. 



90 



*--sVL' c&Ci£& ^z^a-t^L^- 



BUSINESS. 



I sometimes think, and know, and fee] 
How much like hard, inhuman steel, 
How soulless in its search for gold. 
How unrelenting, keen, and cold 
Is business. 



When cash is scarce and times are tight 
Men seldom think of wrong or right. 
When present needs must be supplied 
Fair theories can't be gratified — 
That's business. 



There's little sympathy or heart 
In all the money - making art. 
< > 1 1 r feelings harden as we plod, 
For money is the only God 
Of business. 



But shall we loose all thought and sight 
Of what is wrong and what is right? 
Must all that's lofty and divine 
Be sacrificed before the shrine 
< )f business ? 

While striving for our daily bread 
Must all our better self be dead? 
Will not kind Fortune smile as fair 
If we are human, just and square 
In business? 



^w^e^ yydM*^ 01 



ANN ARBOR, 

I can Bee it all as plainly 

As if it were only a day 
Since 1 was oft' for college 

As verdant as new -mown hay. 
I rather admired Ann Arbor, 

As I sauntered along the street : 
I had passed the examinations 

And was heavy with self-conceit. 

1 was sizing up all the buildings 

And gazing at all 1 could see. 
When over the way some students 

(Jot their eagle eye on me. 
And 'twas troubling to the spirit 

And galling t< the flesh 
The way they stared a moment 

Then shouted -Ah there, Fresh!" 

Now I can't tell how they knew me. 

But certainly it would seem 
There was something about my make-up 

That looked most awful green. 
I was very vexed and annoyed. 

But I never turned my head, 
1 straightened back my shoulders 

And strutted right ahead. 

Well, for some weeks 'twas quiet, 

Then, sounding from afar, 
There came the heavy thunder 

Of fast - approaching war. 
I didn't like the racket 

And wasn't out much nights, 



92 w^£ c^Ci^ta s£zo-t^ds 



1 didn't like the rushes 
And didn't like the fights. 

I lived in mortal terror 

For midst that awful din 
The chance of my escaping 

Was most extremely thin. 
And so to save the lay-out 

For arnica and lint, 
I wrote a little poem 

And put it into print. 



TO '87. 

Ann Arbor Chronicle. 

I'm a guileless and innocent Freshman 

And my troubles have long since commenced. 

I have gone through with most of the hardships 
But I haven't been over the fence. 

I was out at the big game of football. 

(I'd not gone if I'd had any sense). 
In the rush I got mashed to a jelly 

But I haven't been over the fence. 

I came home from the social in terror. 

For the howl of those Sophs was immense. 
I have suffered in anticipation. 

But I haven't been over the fence. 

And when'er I go out, of an evening, 
I'm disturbed with misgivings intense. 

For I haven't gone through with the programme 
Till I set lifted over the fence. 



sSWu^tf yyd4^^ ° 3 



Now I want this anxiety ended, 

And I hope the Sophs wont take offence 
When I ask, as a brotherly kindness, 

That they'd soon put me over the fence. 

Brother, fear not my fists or my muscle. 

I will not make the slightest defence, 
But I'll yield to the Sophomores' kindness, 

And go peacefully over the fence. 

Come now, generous, kind '87, 

Do not keep me so long in suspense. 

Call around on the first pleasant evening 
And bundle me over the fence. 



s. w., : 88. 



Well the stiff-necked generation 

Of skeptics all deny 
That prayer is ever answered 

From the throne of Grace on high. 
But we'd all l»e in clover, 

And revelling in bliss 
If all our prayers were answered 

As promptly as was this. 

Over I went before breakfas! 

In the morning's misty light, 
Ov<er tin- fence at noontide. 

Over the fence at night. 
Over the fence in the starlight 

By the college air- line route 
Over the fence by moonlight. 

Over the fence is out. 



\n 



s-SVU C^?Ci^tB. SUco~l^ds 



The class -room work went steady. 

With little startling or new. 
The work was very heavy, 

And very tedious, too. 
There were some things very pleasant, 

And some things rather rough. 
Some Profs were very gentle 

And some were very tough. 

But of all the petty riders 

Wo tremblingly obeyed. 
Of all the graven idols 

To whom the Freshman prayed, 
Of all the white -winged seraphs 

That on a rostrum sat. 
Of all tin' soaring angels. 

The saintliest was -'Pat." 



TEIBUTE TO < PAT. 

"Pat" had a dream one balmy night, 

When everything was still. 
He saw a phantom clad in white 

Upon his window-sill. 
He asked it why it left this earth 

To join the mighty dead. 
That phantom grinned a fiendish grin. 

And this is what it said : 



" One day 1 had my Lysias learned, 
" And all the grammar knew. 

■• And sadly I kept thinking whom 
" I must recite it to. 



Swfdl y/d^c^\ k 



A fairy came and told mo I 
•Could join the phantom host. 

I only was too glad to die, 
"So here I am — a idiost." 



They weren't all as tough as that — 

These teachers that we had — 
Some one or two were really good. 

And seveial weren't had. 
A few were quite obstreperous. 

But nearly all the rest 
Would help a student if he worked 

And tried to do his best. 

Full many classmates left our ranks 

Before we'd scarce begun. 
Home left who couldn't do the work. 

And several got the run ; 
And others left because they flunked, 

Some had so go away. 
But the honest reason why / left 

AVas cause 1 didn't stay. 



I sometimes have a pitying thought, 

I sometimes heave a sigh. 
When I think how had that college felt 

The day 1 said good - by. 
My heart went out in pity then. 

I had a mind to stay. 
But I put all thoughts of kindness down 

And firmly turned away. 



96 



^yvCe^Ci^t^ JCZo-^x^y 



IN THE PLAY. 

Sometimes when at the play I see 
What seems a different world to me. 
What great and tine things people do! 
How kind they are. how good and true — 
\\\ the play! 

The ones who work, and hope, and strive, 
Before the end are sure to thrive. 
And maidens fair and gallants hold 
Prefer true love to heaps of gold — 
iii the play. 

Enduring justice will requite 
The great, eternal laws of right. 
There's always good for honest men. 
Truth crushed to earth will rise again — 
in the play. 

And loves are constant to all time. 
And true hearts heat in perfect rhyme. 
With each to each in sweet accord. 
And virtue reaps its own reward — 
In the play. 

There comes a time when grief is past. 
The noblest stand approved at last, 
The mean and wicked are put down, 
And the righteous get their earthly crown 
In the play. 



SenW-cfl Wil^C*^ ° 7 



TO - MORROW. 



Oh! day to all our hearts so dear! 
Thou art so far that seem'st so near 
S,, close at hand, yet never here— 
To-morrow. 

How rid. we'll be — how blithe and gay 
Upon that greai bonanza-day 
When everybody wants to pay- 
To -morrow. 



When painful duties gall and irk 
In that fair word doth pleasure lurk 
Tis 8wee t to think of doing work 
To -morrow. 



And still, until the judgment day 
At that same distance thou wilt stay 
Thon visionary, far-away 
To-morrow. 









BETWEEN THE DANCES. 

'Twas a winter's night, and the room was 
bright 
With the dancers' merry whirl. 

And the easy grace and the laughing face 

Of many a lovely girl. 
And jewels glittered, and young hearts beal 

To a beautiful fairy rhyme: 
While over the glistening floor the feet 

Went hurrying all the time. 

I doubt if I ought, but I watched and 
thought. 
These girls can charm and please; 
And manners they know, and sweet words 
how 
With a wonderful grace and ease. 
They can simper, and giggle, and smile on 
the boys, 
And glide o'er a slippery floor; 
They can talk of the weather and dress in 
the style. 
But they're not good for anything more. 

But then came a soberer second thought. 

And it said that I shouldn't forget, 
While girls are giddy and like to dress. 

There's a few that know something yet. 
There's a tew even now who are -old true 
blue." 

And they're giddy and gay as the rest : 
And their laugh is as light on a moonlight 
night. 

And they dance with the same live zest. 



You never can tell till you know them well, 

But some of these lightest hearts 
You know and yon feel are as true as steel. 

When the flush and the smile departs. 
And men will flatter, and men will flirt, 

And never will think or care, 
If the smile is light and the face is bright, 

Whether there's honesty there. 

But, boy. your mother should be your guide — 

From her your comparison be. 
Just ask of your conscience if your best girl 

Is as true and as noble as she. 
Yes, stick to your mother, you fresh young- 
kid, 

And pay her attention too. 
11 will do no hurt if you fail fco flirl 

With each girl you ever knew. 

And then, if you've proven yourself a man. 

You will stand a much better show. 
Some day when you happen to fall in love 

And had rather hear -Yes" than "No." 
For when they are flirting with all the girls, 

Young fellows must not forget. 
While girls are giddy and like to go, 

There's a few that know something yet. 

If you save your pelf and behave yourself. 

You will stand some chance to win 
A girl of a stylo that is worth your while, 

When you make up your mind to begin. 
A girl who is noble enough to grace 

The best that you ever can give, 
Who is happy and bright, whose heart is light. 

And who finds it a pleasure to live. 



100 



^-yyu c^Ci/fc^ j£zo-v^y 



But who, if misfortung six mid ever come, 

Could lay aside her train. 
And roll up her sleeves with a healthy vim, 

And help you to rise again. 
A girl who could tend you, if you were sick, 

With as tender and loving care 
As your mother used to in days gone by, 

And could that same patience bear. 

Yes, stay with your mother, yon fresh young 
kid, 

And see if yon can'1 repay 
A part of the trouble and self-denial 

You caused her many a day. 
Stay with your mother until you eanwin 

A girl who's an honor to you — 
Then give your life to your chosen wife. 

And start in the race anew. 



MAKE A NOTE ON. 

All along this wicked world. 

Make a note on. 
Wisdom's fanner is unfurled. 

Make a note on. 
If you'd be a learned seer, 
Watch what things are strange and queer, 
Everything you see or hear, 

Make a note on. 

If you're scoffed or treated ill. 

Make a note on. 
These rebuffs are only drill. 

.Make a note on. 



vSW^^ fo'dAuv*^ 101 



Never show the shaft that hits. 
X<> true brave a wound admits. 
Watch your toes and give 'em tits — 
.Make a note on. 

Every time you're treated well 

Make a note on. 
By ingratitude man fell — 

Make a note on. 
Do not judge the motive base 
If you're helped along apace. 
Don't think kindness commonplace — 

Make a note on. 

Every time you slip or tail. 

Make a note on. 
Lamentations won't avail — 

Make a note on. 
Tis not the first bad slips we make 
That hinder what we undertake, 
But don't repeat (lie same mistake — 

Make a note on. 




APPENDIX 



ETIQUETTE. 



As no book would be complete without some advice 
on etiquette, I will offer a few practical rules of behavior 
for the benefit of an intelligent public. 

In this age of science, extravagance, and bankruptcy, 
perhaps no out thing is more neglected than etiquette, un- 
less it be truth. Etiquette is the science of appearing, on 
all occasions, perfectly proper, placid, and pleasant. As 
nobody is that way on . all occasions, the science of eti- 
quette teaches how to lie most pleasingly. Anybody can 
[ie_that's easy — hut to lie pleasantly, neatly, and -race- 
fully requires both study and practice. Many other authors 
haV e written upon this all - important subject, but if 1 can 
say anything that is instructive, or that will in any way 
assist anybody, 1 shall be filling a long felt want. 

The young people of America are allowed the greatest 
possible liberty in their social intercourse. It is entirely 
proper for young gentlemen to make themselves agreeable 
or disagreeable to the unmarried ladies of their acquaint- 
ance, and young ladies may. with propriety, accept invita- 
tions' and receive calls from any young gentleman of good 
mora] character, or from wealthy young gentlemen anyhow. 
An English writer has defined etiquette as the "Minor 
morality of Life," but I cannot see any good reason why 



106 



s-^Vt e^ti^ta J^ocn^dS 



adults should not behave themselves as well as minors. 
Some vulgar people think that all the direction etiquette 
needs is gentlemanly or landylike instincts and a little com- 
mon sense. This is, however, an erroneous impression. In 
the most modern and high-toned society etiquette lias 
nothing to do with common sense. 

Introduction is said to be the high road to acquaint- 
anceship. If this he so, there must be a great many people 
who jump the fence and go across lots. Such a proceeding- 
is very improper indeed. I like the Frenchman who sal 
and watched a man drown because he "had never had ze 
honour of an introduction to ze zhentleman in ze water." 
I hate to sec people disregard etiquette, especially in the 
matter of introductions. I like to see them stand around 
and gape at each other until somebody happens along to 
introduce them. 

In American society the forms of salutation are varied. 
A favorite way with some gentlemen is to place the right 
hand on the back of a friend, between the shoulders, in a 
manner calculated to loosen his store-teeth. This method of 
salutation is of additional merit as a test of friendship. If 
the person so saluted does not knock the top of your head 
off, he is a true friend. Perhaps the most common method 
of salutation is shaking hands. There are various ways of 
performing this ceremony. Many gentlemen, in shaking 
hands, endeavor to press a friend's knuckles through into 
the palm of his hand. Others get a good firm grip on you 
and work your shoulder out of joint. Still others poke 
three fingers at you in a way that makes you feel the 
same as when somebody dropped a cold raw oyster with 
vinegar on it down the back of your neck. 

Shaking hands with a lady i.-> one of the Lost Arts. 



S(^>m^-M )Yi£jeUv*\ 107 

It is very possible that a little instruction on this point 
might be accepted. In shaking hands with a lady yon want 
to incline your body slightly forward, and turn you head 
slightly upward, with a soft and graceful, yet pleading and 
half timid movement, like a boy climbing a barbed wire 
fence with a fifty-pound watermelon. Look into her eyes 
with a pleasant smile. Beam upon her your most winsome 
beam. Say something you have heard some other idiot say 
on a similar occasion, and in the meantime shake her 
hand moderately, but firmly. 

Circumstances sometimes render it necessary to discon- 
tinue an acquaintanceship. The process is termed "cutting" 
an acquaintance. Some acquaintances are a little like board- 
ing-house steak in this regard. Boarding-house steak that 
is rare cuts easy, and conversely, boarding house steak that 
cuts easy is rare, it is about so with acquaintance's, ex- 
cept that they may be expected to rare when you cut 
them — that is, if you give them the cut direct. Von never 
can give boarding-house steak the cut direct, except with a 
buzz-saw. It is so with some acquaintances. If failing to bow 
does not cauae your friend to suspect that your feelings for 
him are not of the fondest, it is polite to say to him '• Huh ? 
Who are yon?" If this proclamation does not convey to 
Ids mind a suspicion that you do nol desire to prolong the 
acquaintance, you had better make laces at him. 

There are a great many people who behave well in 
other respects, but who at table remind one of the old 
conundrum, "What is a little pig doing at the same time 
that he eats his broth?" "He is making a boa,- of him- 
self" 

If by publishing a lew rules tor the table, I can in- 
duce one man who now wipes his hands on the tablecloth 



1 08 *^^s £.<?Ci^Zi s£co~i^ds 



to come up and take higher ground, and wipe them on 
his vest. I shall feel amply compensated for my pains. 

While you are at dinner do not take up a raw oyster 
on your fork, say it it seems to you it wiggles, and ask 
your host if it is dead. Kemarks about death should 
never be made at the table. 

In eating cherries or other fruit with stones or seeds. 
do not make a putty -blower with your lips to fire the 
stones onto your plate, but remove them from your mouth 
with your napkin, and then either toss them gently under 
the table or slide them into your neighbor's pocket. 

At the breakfast table, strict etiquette need not be 
observed. Breakfast is the one meal at which it is allow- 
able to omit all the minute requirements of etiquette and 
act perfectly easy and natural if yon desire to eat with 
your knife at breakfast you may do so. You may rise 
and leave the table without asking to be excused. You 
may close your lips over more food than your mouth will 
accommodate, and hold it in with your fingers. In hue. 
you may act perfectly natural. 

.Many physicians are at present recommending driving 
in the open air as a cure for consumption. The beneficial 
effect of driving depends upon the turnout. Anybody's 
health will be more improved by driving out with a span 
and driver than it will be by plying the gad on an old 
wheezy plug from over a broken dashboard. No physician 
need recommend driving if the patient hasn't anything but 
a mule and dump-cart. The scheme won't work, and fre- 
quently the mule won't, either. A gentlemen, in driving 
with a lady, will always see to her comfort and pleasure. 
In alighting from a carriage, a gentleman must lie careful 
nol to trample upon or crush a lady's dress. The lady will 



^c^n^<A y/d>M^ 100 



exclaim -Don't step on my dress!" as a delicate hint that 
the gentleman is usually very awkward. A gentleman will 
assisl a lady to alight from a carriage. He stands by the 
side of the carriage step and offers the lady his hand. 
The old way of performing this same ceremony is -even 
now seen occasionally. By this method the gentleman puts 
his foot on the wheel and reaches the ground by a sorl of 
side lunge. He then stands directly in front of the car- 
riage step and braces his feet, while the lady leans forward 
from the carriage box. puts her two hands on the gentle- 
man's two arms, and comes down on him like an Alpine 
land-slide. This is very startling if you are not accustomed 
to it. I think that a gentleman ought to he notified when 
the avalanche is coming, so that he may make good his 
escape. 



LEEDLE PIZZLEMIRES. 



I haff in mine garten von leedle sherry drees. 1 vas 
blant him by der middle von dot garten als der shpring 
dimes. Dot dree vas grow, undt plossom, undt der leaves 
dev look so nice undt green as nefer vas. Aber dose 
leedle pizzlemires goomes, couple millions full, undt dev 
Climbs oop dot leedle shtems. undt schews mit dheir nioiidt 
dose leaves up. Den I says to Katrina: 

"Dose leedle pizzlemires vas schew oop dot leedle 
sherry drees. Aber 1 vas got after dem. undt I vill preak 
dem in peesness oop." Den she says: 

"You don't can preak dem in peesness oop. Dey vas 
could tail undt shtart again. Pesides, dey vas couple 



110 



iSvCs C^CcA^i. JZ^Zo-ts\*£, 



millions full, mult you v:is only von.'' Den I vas mad. I 
says : 

•■ Dot vas slmst all der petter dese voomans reason can. 
I vas could pusl dose pizzlemires, undt 1 goes right avay 
undt settles mil dheir hash in. — I vill. py gum!" 

Den 1 goes undt gets some molasses syrips undt 
shprinkles him apout sex inches all dot shtems aroumlt. 
Den I sitz me on der graass undt vaits. Undt pime py 
goomes von leedle pizzlemires, undt roons dot shtems oop, 
undt stick-s by dot syrups undt shtops. Den he shqvirms, 
undt pack's oop undt falls ofer himself, undt sits on his 
pack' undt gicks mit his heels in der air oop. Und pime 
py goomes anodder leedle pizzlemires. undt roons dot 
slilcms oop, undt sees dot syrips, undt shtops. Den he 
shqvints mit liis eye. undt puts his foot in dot syrips 
undt eats some. Den lie vinks mit der odder eye undt 
shmacks his hill undt says it vas goot. Den he denks if 
a leedle vas goot. dot vas mooch petter ven he gets all 
ofer in. so he shtands mit his head on. undt keels him ofer 
into dot syrips, undt shtieks mit Ids pack py dot syrips. 
undt vaits. 

Den ^goomes more pizzlemires. 'whole army full, undt 
tries to roon dot shtems oop, undt some shtieks, undt some 
shtavs oudt undt eats a leedle, aher dcy don't schew mit 
dheir moudt dose leaves oop. 

Den I schmiles, undt schmiles. Den I goes to Katrina 
undt 1 says : 

•• I dells you vot dot vas. Ven dose leedle pizzlemires 
denks dey haft' some schnaps around t mine garten in, den 
dey vas got der wrong schiekens py.der horn. Hay? 
Ain't it?" 

Den she don't say noddings. undt I schmiles me all ofer. 



Scwri*^ yyUfiw*^ in 



DOT SARDINES. 



I vas heard so mooch apout a little fishes vol dese 
Yankees day gall a sardines. Oh, he vas so nice, undt 
shlick, undt shveet! Medenks I i>-ot von undt eat me 
somedings vat vas goot. So I goes mit a shtore in. undt 
1 says, "Haf you got a sardines?" undt der teller says. 
•A viddle shiticks." Undt I says. "Nine, a sardines." 
Undt he says " 1 vas got no nine sardines, yon vas der 
piggest sardines I vas seen anyvlieres." Den I says ■■ Nine. 
Nine. I vant me a sardines — von of dose leedle fishes vat 
shviins mit der oil in. Hat' you got him?" Den he gets 
von leedle pox und says •• I there he is." Den \ puis down 
a haluf a dollar undt he prings pack dhirty cents, undt 
medenks dot vas a rich fishes. A her 1 dakes him home 
undt opens him. Yell, ef dot fishes vas t'eelin veil den I 
nefer vent anyvlieres. lie looks sick undt pillions, shoost 
like a shmashed vrogs. Medenks he vas gramped by der 
schtomach in, undt vas died mit der bain. Ach ! he vas got 
no head, got no tail. He vas a shnides. I dakes him 
out undt looks him all aroundt at. He was awful dead. 
Medenks he vas no goot, Pime py I puts him pack mit 
his coffin in, undt dakes him oudt undt perries him, So 
he vill shleep so beaceful all der vhiles als der garten in, 
undt der next dimes I vants a dreats I vill py a codfishes. 



112 ■^yf / Ly C^Ci^ta J^Z€rt^u^y 



MY MIDNIGHT VIGIL. 



One night I was suddenly awakened from refreshing 
slumber by the unmistakable music, of rats. [nstinctively 
1 sprang from my bed and seized the bootjack. I wenl 
to the window and looked out. Yes, there were the objects 
of my wrath — about a dozen cats in the middle of the 
road fighting their best. I raised the bootjack, but did not 
throw it. I suddenly became aware of the grandeur and 
beauty of the scene before me. 1 laid down the bootjack 
and drew a chair to the window. It was a faultless night. 
The silvery moon shone bright and clear from out a cloud- 
less August sky. It flooded the landscape with a mellow 
light and shone like moulten gold in the glassy lake. 
Away to the east the dark, leaden waters of Pine Lake 
lay half hidden between the tali -wooded shores, while to 
the west stretched away the watery expanse of Lake 
.Michigan. The cats were silent, and were admiring the land- 
scape too. Slowly coming through the channel was the 
iron tug Bob Stevenson, and his heavy breathing was 
wafted to my ears. A gentle breeze rustled through the 
tall grass and moved the yielding branches of the trees. It 
was such a night as only Charlevoix can afford. All was 
still. 

Suddenly a window was raised in the next cottage. 
Then silence again. I meditated. Surely these midnight 
belligerents remind me of something. Why not of Caesar's 
campaigns in Gaul? Ah yes. surely. That big black and 
white one is Csesar himself, only transformed by a strange 
freak of Buddhism. The big. yellow, ugly looking one is 



&*w*jtl yyd4^\ 1 13 



Ariovistus. He is a bad egg. All the rest form the body- 
guard of these two. This meeting is the council concern- 
ing peace. My glance wanders to the next cottage. A 
human head projects from the window, then it is with- 
drawn. But see! There are signs of treachery in the 
council. Ariovistus looks Caesar square in the face and 
remarks, " Y-y-u-e-o-ow-ow." Then the exercises are re- 
sumed with vigor. Presently the head and shoulders of a 
human form in white protrude from the window oppo- 
site, Ghosts! 7 shiver. But the ghost! What holds he 
in his firm right hand ? It has the appearance of a double- 
barreled shot-gun. Ah, Caesar! You are about to he ruined 
by the great modern invention of gunpowder! 

There is a disturbance in the council. Caesar has got 

his hack up, and that always did forebode evil. Click-click. 

click-click, sounds out clear and sharp on the night air. The 

village clocks sound out the hour of midnight. All silence. 

Caesar is preparing for battle, Milites hortantur. The ghost 

is taking aim. Things are coming to a crisis. 1 tremble 

with excitement. One instant more, and CEASH ! BANG-!! 

My very hair loosens at the roots as the ghost discharges 

both barrels of his gun in quick succession. You can never 

realize what a terrible, soul-jarring racket a shot-gun can 

make till you hear it, break the dead silence of midnight. 

What has become of the council? It is scattered — 

slightly. But noble Caesar lies stretched at the foot of 

Pompey's telegraph pole, — dead. Poor, noble Caesar! But 

yesterday the yeowl of Caesar had been heard throughout 

the village. Now lies he there, and none so poor to steal 

his hide. That was the most unkindest shot of all. But 

the ghost puts down the curtain. Twas not that he 

loved Caesar less, but that he loved peace more. 



1 14 ^-yyl- £<?CL^&. j£co~i^dS 



MATHEMATICS. 



I don't like mathematics. Furthermore. I don't see 
any earthly use oi studying them. There may be people 
who have to know aboivt mathematics for business pur- 
poses, hut for the common, average student to grind over 
the higher mathematics I think' is folly. Algebra is a lo1 
of mean arrangements of A' plus Y. and X minus V. and 
the 1 ,' are so fixed that when you once gel into them yon 
are like that chap in the Creton labyrinth — the more you 
work to get out, the farther yon (ret into trouble. And 
Geometry — well, one can imagine how it might be useful 
to know the value of pic. or of one -half pie. or even one- 
sixth pie: aiul in connection with pie. it might be well to 
he able to compute the capacity of any given vacuum, but 
farther than this 1 see no use of Geometry. 

A lucid imagination can conceive how Trigonometry 
might prove useful. If this world were a circle, and all 
the railway (rains started from .1. and kept moving around 
from right to left, and connected with the interior by 
means of narrow-guage sines and cosines; and if some of 
these trains had got in the habil of backing around nega- 
tively, and of occasionally flying off on a minus tangent, 
— I say if all this were true, then we mighl apply our 
Trigonometry, — hut it isn't. 

There are some tine points in Mathematics that east 
a gloom over the brightness of most students. If your 
property is plus six and mine is minus six. it is easy to 
see that you are richer than I. hut if your wealth is esti- 
mated at plus not hin»- and mine at minus nothing, I don't 



vj^^z-f-^-e^A //ctfS^i^ 



115 



sec why I am iioi as rich as you. A mathematician would 
say • You are in theory, but aot in practice.'' Maybe thai 
is so. hut I wouldn't give a cent for a theory that didn'1 
assist reality. 

Did 1 say thai Mathematics were useless'.'' I'll take it 
back. A lawyer once found them very useful. lie had a 
misunderstanding with an Irish client, and the Irishman, 
being the stronger, threatened personal violence and inso- 
lently refused to leave the office. Hut education triumph- 
ed. The lawyer drew himself up to his full height, and 
set forth as follows: -Why. you awful right prism! The 
area of your lateral surface is equal to the product of 
your altitude into the perimeter of your base. Oh. you 
audacious rectangular parallelopiped ! Your volume is equal 
to the product of the three edges of one of your triedrals. 
I tell you, sir. you are a right cylinder of revolution. 
Your convex surface is equal to the product of your axis 
into 2 pie times your radius, and if you don't describe a 
secant terminating in the concave arc of that door, I'll 
intersect your circumference in two places by means of a 
straight line.' 

The terrified Irishman gasped out • i Howly Mither. save 
us! and drew the aforesaid secant. 




116 



^yy^C^Ci^ta J^Zcrt^L^y 



THE LADIES' TEA. 



What boy has not received ladies at the front door 
who, in the absence of his female relatives, have committed 
to his lucid memory invitations to a ladies' tea? Or what 
boy has not attended a ladies' tea in the capacity of escort. 
and wished the ladies' tea was in Jericho, or possibly in a 
more tropical locality? I think it's mean to make a party 
and not invite the men too. Anyway, if they make them 
come that way, to see the ladies home, they ought to 
give them something to eat. 

Never mind. I got even with the ladies' tea. There 
was one of these gay assemblages up in the west part of 
town awhile ago, and I attended. I took my note-book 
and pencil and I went to the ladies' tea. I sat on a little 
box just outside the window and took notes. I always 
wondered what they did at a ladies' tea party, and that 
evening 1 found out. A number of married ladies were 
imparting information to one unmarried lady upon the 
subject of MEN ! One of the married ladies was holding 
forth on that all-important subject substantially as follows: 

•Men are all about the same. Oh my! what funny 
creatures they are f don't believe there ever was a man 
who could find a shirt that fitted right I'm sure there 
never was one who could find a clean pair of stockings 
I guess my Mr. Jenkins is as good as any of em and he's 
awful queer one day last summer we were invited out 
to an afternoon party and T went and we waited and 
waited and waited and Jenkins didn't conic and by and 
by he came and I says why couldn't you come earlier 



oW***x <$t yy<jfc&£t*+^ i r 



and he says I couldn't find any clean stockings right out 
before all that company Oh I was so mortified well 
that same company was coming up to our house that same 
evening and 1 says to myself I bet I'll fix John Henry 
Jinkins so 1 went to his bureau drawer he always has 
about twenty pairs of stockings in a pile and he never 
had but just one pair since 1 knew him that were exactly 
right and he always thinks it's my solemn duty to have 
that pair clean and he's always mad if they're to the 
wash as goodness knows they have to lie sometimes well 
1 went to his bureau drawer and I took the whole drawer- 
full of stockings into the parlor and 1 dumped them all 
onto the floor right before all that company and J said 
Henry it does seem as if yon might have got on some 
clean stockings and come to that party in time well it 
cured him he has never said stockings to me since I've 
been married nineteen years and I tell yon men are 
queer.' 



THE BANGLE-BOARD. 

1 am forced Jo remark. 

In these fashionable days. 
That for truly aesthetic 

And curious ways 
The ladies are very peculiar, 

Which, the same. 1 will try to explain. 

Away back, ten or fifteen years ago. there was a 
rage for making wall baskets. Everybody had to have 
something to hang on the wall to pnl papers in. 'These 
paper-holders were made of wire — not new wire, hut little 



18 *-^VL' e^d^ta ^£co~t^-^ 



Hal strips of steel covered with white webbing, This 
material came from the garret, and was dissected as 
needed. Sometimes it was used with the white webbing 
on. and sometimes the webbing was pulled off. The strips 
of steel were benl in loops and tied with bright-colored 
worsted. 

After awhile they began to make these wall-pockets 
of pasteboard and stick on all sorts of fancy paper orna 
ments. These paste-board wall-baskets were much more 
elaborate, and \^v\ handsome when new. but after they 
had hung in a warm room for awhile the mucilage 
hardened, the pasteboard warped and twisted, little children 
became frightened at them, and they had to he taken 
down. 

Xext came the perforated card-board. Mottoes were 
made of it with worsted, expressing the loftiest of senti- 
ments in letters of more or less frightful deformity. Frames 
were made of it. Bait cans were covered with it for 
burnt matches, while near by hung a sheet of Number 1 
sand-paper, lined with this same card-board and bearing 
the soul-harrowing legend. sCRAtcb my A.lcK. But all 
this is changed. The wall-basket is no more, the papers are 
all packed away, the little hoopsk — — the little Hat wires, 
moulder in the garret, and the next in vogue is the bangle- 
hoard. Any girl can tell you wdiat a bangle-board is. A 
bangle^board is a piece of a starch-box. It is covered with 
plush and stuck full of little hooks. Id is then fastened 
upon the wall to hang things on. You can hang your 
watch on it. or your key-ring, or your button-hook. It 
is so nice! Perfectly lovely! .Inst as sweet as it can be! 
When von go to bed, yon can take the things out oi your 
pocket and hang them on the bangle-boarcl. A bangle- 



^^^diyvdM^^ U9 



board is. perhaps, still more useful to a girl. She can 
burden it down with bangles, rings, brooches, chains, 
bracelets, and with very many of the other charms it may 
be her fortune to possess. 

The bangle-board can enter successful competition 
with other boards. It is safer than the gaming board and 
cheaper than day hoard. It is more popular with the -iris 
than the wash-board and the ironing-board, and they know 
more about it than they do about the kneading-board. It 
is far more a?sthetie than the mop-board and loss corrupt 
i ban the returning-board (they both being base boards). 
The bangle-board is more sensible than the checker-board. 
is richer than the frugal board, less dignified than the 
School Board, and more economical than the Board of 
Aldermen. It calls for less waste of brains than the 
chess-board, has fewer corners than the board of trade, 
and is not half as tough as the board you gel at the 
average boarding-house. But, like every other freak of 
fashion, it will have to go by the hoard in time. 

Taken all around, the bangle-board is quite an insti- 
tution. But tb.' walhhaskei perished, the card-board faded 
away, the hail can reposeth in the back yard, and the 
festive bangle-board must die. When many years with 
their flying moments have swept along, the bangle-board 
will he laid by and forgotten, hut some day some curious 
hopeful of a future generation will pull an old faded 
bangle-board out of his grand-mother's relic-box, and wonder 
what in creation tin- thing is. ami what idiot invented it. 



INDEX 



Prove It ----- - 7 

Onions -------- 8 

Tobacco -.-_-- -8 

Story of Good Little Vincent - - '.» 

Two Different Cases - - 13 

Moonlight's Charm - - - U 

Not Living- ------ - 15 

Maude Muller (Chinese Version) - - 1*1 

The Golden Rule - - 17 

Music 18 

Bad - . - - - is 

A Reporter's Dream - ' - - -19 

When Patience Fails - - 21 

The Unclassical Cow - - 22 

Half- Way - 23 

The Cats (Parody) - 24 

Woman's Rights - - 27 

Muchness ------- 28 

Police ! Police ! ! - - - - 29 

Pest - - 30 

Giggle - - - - 31 

One Little Bundle Pee and 1 (Parody) - 32 

A Robin - - . . - :« 

Nasby's Hannah .lane - 34 

Cash - - - - - - - - 35 

Very Pleasant ------- 36 

Public Test - - 37 

The Poet's Lot - - - - 38 

A Dude - - - - - 39 

Peterkin Shadow - - - - - - - 40 

Buttermilk ------ 42 



Determination - - 43 

Advice - - -44 

TWO Verses (b.V Two Great Poets) - - *0 

Poe's Raven (Parody) - "> 

"Fun" ... -48 

A Giddy Girl - - - 19 

A Hundred Years from Now - - - 50 

Little -Willie - - - 51 

Not Patented - - 52 

A Possible Loss (Parody) - - 53 

Straight Through - - 54 

My Mother's Cookies (Parody) - - 55 

Book Agents Never Die (Parody) - 57 

Before Election ... - 58 

Kept Blowing - - - 59 

Stick To D - - 60 

Romance ... - 61 

Too Sweet - - 62 

Practical Fanning - ... 63 

Ode To Hash - - 66 

Marks On The Wall 67 

Sea -Sick (Parody) - - 68 

Gone - - 69 

Presto Chan go - - - 70 

The Editors' Picnic - - 72 

Distance Lends Enchantment - - - - - 73 

Offensive Partisanship - - 77 

The Cucumber ... ... 79 

Little Lessons (Parody) - 81 

Onward - - - .- 82 

Go Home - -83 

The Muggins Family - - 85 

Base -Ball - 89 

Business - - - 90 

Ann Arbor 91 

In The Play - 96 



123 



To- Morrow 

Between the Dances 

Make a Note On 

Appendix— Etiquette 
Leedle Pizzlemiers 
Dot Sardines 
My Midnight Vigil 
Mathematics 
The Ladies' Tea 
The Bangle- Board 

Index 



PAGE. 

- 97 
98 

- l(K) 

105 

- 109 

111 

- 112 
II 1 

- in; 

117 
121 








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